


love's such an old-fashioned word

by thewalrus_said



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Good Omens Fusion, Apocalypse, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-08-13 06:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20170045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said
Summary: The only possible solution to being handed the Antichrist and told to kickstart Armageddon is to steal him and raise him with your hereditary enemy. Right?





	1. In The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> *comes running over, fic in hand, trips, holds fic up* I DID IT
> 
> This has been a labor of love. Thank you endlessly to [Rita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite) for betaing this, and to everybody on the chaos server for being so boundlessly supportive. Couldn't have done it without you.

Viktor spies the Serpent slithering out of the Garden and makes a beeline for it. “Now what did you have to go and do that for?” he says, coming to a halt a respectable distance from the great reptile. Those fangs look sharp, after all. “Things were going so well for them.”

The Serpent rears back in evident surprise, and then transforms into a humanoid shape. Tan skin, strong legs under his tunic, big brown eyes. Viktor takes a step back. “Oh, sorry,” the Serpent says. “To be honest, it all got a little out of hand?”

Viktor can feel his jaw hanging open and shuts it with a snap. “Oh, well, I’m sure you were just following orders,” he says, somewhat less sharply. “Can’t exactly blame you for that.”

The Serpent shrugs. “They just told me to come up here and cause trouble. But I wasn’t expecting, uh, _ all that _ to happen.”

Viktor looks out over the desert. With his angelic eyes, he can just about make out Eve and Adam picking their way across the sands. The Serpent moves up next to him. “Wait a minute,” he says, squinting at the pair. “Isn’t that your flaming sword?”

“Well, _ somebody _ got them exiled from the Garden,” Viktor says huffily. “I couldn’t very well let them go unarmed, could I? They’d be torn apart before the day was out.”

The Serpent grins; Viktor’s breath catches. “Bet you’ll be in trouble for that one. From what I remember, Heaven’s very careful with their weaponry.”

“I’m Viktor,” Viktor says in response. “If they push me out over it, I’m coming to you for shelter.”

“Yuuri,” the Serpent - Yuuri - says. “I guess that’s fair.”

Viktor looks up at the sky. “I think it’s going to rain.”

“What’s rain?” Yuuri asks, peering upward as though it could give him the answer.

“It’s when water falls from the sky. I heard it was being finished up sometime today, and judging from those clouds, the first storm is on the way.” Viktor points.

“Oh, yes, those do look menacing,” Yuuri remarks. “I hope it doesn’t put the flames on that sword out.”

This hadn’t occurred to Viktor. “Well, it’s heavenly fire, isn’t it? Probably beyond the reach of common water. At least, I hope so.”

“You’re probably right.” A droplet of water lands on Yuuri’s forehead, and Viktor has the distinct pleasure of seeing it run down his aquiline nose and right off his chin. “I think it’s started.” He looks rueful. “You’ll probably be wanting to get on, won’t you? To shelter, I mean.”

Viktor wants no such thing. “I was planning to watch, actually,” he says. “I’m still technically on guard duty, whether or not they’re still in the Garden. But if you’re scared of a little water…” He extends one wing and holds it over Yuuri’s head. “There. Dry as you like.”

Yuuri smiles, his slitted eyes crinkling. “Thanks. Water tends to make demons a bit jumpy, even if it is just common water.”

“Oh, I see,” Viktor says. “You don’t have to stay.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “I’d like to. If you don’t mind,” he hastens to add.

“I don’t mind.”

If Yuuri keeps smiling like that, Viktor is going to have to request a new body. This one’s heart clearly isn’t up to the task.

They stand there until the storm rains itself out. There’s a new smell on the air, damp sand and wet greenery; Viktor breathes it in. He relishes the moment - until, that is, he sees a flash of light on the western wall of the Garden. “That’ll be JJ,” he says. “Probably coming to check why the humans have left.”

“Ah,” Yuuri says. “I’d best be off, then.” He hesitates, then sticks his hand out. “It was lovely meeting you, Viktor.”

Yuuri’s hand is soft when Viktor takes it. “It was lovely meeting you too, Yuuri. Perhaps we’ll meet again sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Yuuri says. With a blink, he’s gone. Viktor takes a moment, steadies himself, and starts to come up with a cover story for where his sword could have possibly got to.


	2. Eleven Years Before the Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri reaches back and grabs his foot, pulling it up in the last of his stretches. “I don’t know why you bother with those,” comes a familiar voice from the direction of the studio door. “Your body can’t feel muscle pain.”
> 
> Yuuri releases his foot in surprise. “It feels nice anyway. What are you doing here?”
> 
> “Wow, is that any way to greet your oldest friend?” Phichit asks, cocking an eyebrow. At his feet is a wicker basket. “No _hello, nice to see you, let’s get coffee_?”
> 
> Wincing, Yuuri says, “Sorry. It is nice to see you, you know that. You just surprised me. Do you want coffee?”
> 
> “Nah, no time. More important business.” Phichit nudges the basket with his foot. “It’s time.”

Yuuri reaches back and grabs his foot, pulling it up in the last of his stretches. “I don’t know why you bother with those,” comes a familiar voice from the direction of the studio door. “Your body can’t feel muscle pain.”

Yuuri releases his foot in surprise. “It feels nice anyway. What are you doing here?”

“Wow, is that any way to greet your oldest friend?” Phichit asks, cocking an eyebrow. At his feet is a wicker basket. “No _ hello, nice to see you, let’s get coffee_?”

Wincing, Yuuri says, “Sorry. It is nice to see you, you know that. You just surprised me. Do you want coffee?”

“Nah, no time. More important business.” Phichit nudges the basket with his foot. “It’s time.”

“Time for - oh,” Yuuri says, realizing where he’s seen that type of basket before. “Already?”

“Past time, according to some.” Phichit leans down and picks it up, extending it towards Yuuri. “And you’re the lucky demon.” Yuuri takes the basket like it’s a bomb, as tentatively as possible without dropping it. He doesn’t want to know the consequences for dropping the Antichrist. “You remember the plan?” Phichit goes on.

Yuuri nods. Of course he remembers the plan. Every demon in Hell has been drilled on the plan since the Revolution. “Great!” Phichit says. “Be there tonight, the nuns will be expecting you. And keep in touch, let me know how it all goes off.” He grins. “It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says faintly. “Exciting.”

Phichit disappears, and Yuuri carefully carries the basket upstairs, into the small apartment above his dance studio. Setting it on the kitchen table, he scrabbles for his phone. “Something’s happened,” he says, as soon as the call is answered. “I need your help.”

——

Viktor and Yuuri meet in a small cafe half an hour away from the nunnery. Viktor orders a slice of peach pie; Yuuri restricts himself to a strong black coffee. “So that’s it?” Viktor says, nodding to the basket, which is perched on the table to the side.

“That’s him,” Yuuri says. “He was dropped off this morning.”

Viktor regards the basket. “So what are we going to do?”

“Well, we can’t let him go to the family,” Yuuri says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. “He’s supposed to be placed with an American diplomat, so he’s properly poised to, well, _ bring things about _ when the time comes. The nuns are expecting me tonight.”

“So what are we going to do instead?” Viktor persists. He takes a bite of pie and stares at Yuuri expectantly.

Yuuri groans. “That’s just it, I don’t _ know. _ I wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon, and I _ certainly _ wasn’t expecting to be the one to have to, well. _ Do it. _ I haven’t come up with any sort of plan yet.”

“Hmm.” Viktor takes another bite of peach pie. “What do you know about the family?”

“Not much. Pretty typical American political family. The father’s going to have to be in politics for the next ten years, so he’s got to be a little bit evil.”

Viktor purses his lips, thinking. “Putting him with a political family - it’s got to be about influence, hasn’t it? Raise him to think he’s owed a bit of the world.”

“He’s owed the whole world, strictly speaking. Once the war’s over.”

Viktor waves this off. “So we just need to counteract the influence. Shine an equal amount of Heaven’s light on him as he grows up, then maybe he won’t want to start the war when the time comes.”

Yuuri frowns. “Maybe. But your lot want the war as much as mine do, you know that. Heaven’s light won’t do much good in averting it, it’ll just maybe switch his side.”

Frowning, Viktor concedes the point. “We’d have to get the balance exactly right. Equal parts Heaven and Hell, so he won’t want to pick a side at all.”

A thought occurs to Yuuri. It’s a good thought, objectively speaking, but more than that, as soon as he’s had it, he _ wants _ it, wants it badly. And he’s a demon, after all. _ Wants _ are basically _ needs _ for him. “You know,” Yuuri says, leaning over the table a little bit. “There’s one way to ensure the balance is equal.”

Viktor polishes off his pie. “And what’s that?”

Yuuri waits until Viktor puts his fork down and catches his gaze. “We could raise him ourselves.” Deep in his core, Yuuri grabs hold of a little tendril of seduction and wraps it around his words. He hates manipulating people like this, and he hasn’t tried it on Viktor in centuries, but this is _ important. _ This is Armageddon.

“Oh,” Viktor breathes. He looks over at the basket. “There’s a thought.”

“We’d have to get him out of the city,” Yuuri goes on. “Raise him in the country somewhere, fewer people to interfere with the levels. But you’re Heaven, and I’m Hell, and if we raise him together…”

Viktor stands and moves over to the basket. Yuuri copies him on the other side of the table. With a trembling hand, Viktor reaches out and carefully opens one side of the wicker basket. The Antichrist coos sleepily and wriggles a little bit. Viktor carefully closes the lid again. Above the basket, their eyes meet. Viktor smiles.

——

“You know,” Viktor says, as Yuuri hurtles the Bentley down the road as fast as it can go and then some, “I’ve always admired you for politics.”

Eyes on the road, Yuuri can’t parse the sentence. “What?”

“For your invention of politics. It was remarkably clever. An institution fundamental to human society, and so perfectly designed to churn out a level of low-grade misery for everyone involved or affected.” Viktor looks over at him. “It was genius.”

“Careful,” Yuuri mutters. “I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to admire a demon. Might be risking your wings a little bit.”

Viktor snorts. “I don’t know how much you remember about being an angel, Yuuri, but sometimes I think about following you down.”

“Don’t. It’s not worth it.” Yuuri cuts the wheel and pulls off the road. “Here should be a good spot.” He clambers out of the car; on the other side, Viktor does the same. “The hospital’s about a quarter mile down the road. Are you ready?”

With a snap of his fingers, Viktor is clad in a nun’s habit and robe. “Ready.”

“Okay. You get going, I’ll follow in about five minutes with…” Yuuri flaps his hand at the backseat of the car, where the basket sits. “I’ll hide somewhere nearby. Will you be able to find me?”

“I can sense demonic presences. Should be a breeze.” Viktor adjusts his sleeves. “Right. I’m off. Wish me luck!”

“Luck,” Yuuri says.

Viktor sets off, and Yuuri pulls the basket out of the backseat of the car. “Just you and me, baby,” he mutters, looking at his watch. “We’d better start getting used to each other.”

Five minutes pass easily enough, and then Yuuri sets off. His eyes aren’t well suited to seeing in the dark, and the sunglasses don’t help, but he manages to be reasonably stealthy, he thinks. Before long, he’s creeping up to the side of the birthing hospital. The Chattering Order of St. Beryl, if he remembers correctly. Viktor was probably in - well. In Heaven.

He finds a darkened corner and sets to lurking. He’s good at lurking - it comes with the whole ‘demon’ territory. He can lurk all night if he has to.

Which he doesn’t - Viktor finds him before ten minutes have passed, a bundle in his arms. “I’ve got it,” he hisses. “They just let me walk right out with him, security is _ terrible _ here.”

“Be grateful,” Yuuri hisses back. “Come on, let’s get this done.” He sets the basket on the ground and opens it. “Here, give me that,” he says, taking the baby from Viktor’s arms. “You pick up ours.”

“Ours,” Viktor repeats, bending down to scoop up the Antichrist.

Yuuri carefully settles the American ambassador’s child into the basket and picks it up. “I’m off. Meet you back at the car.” Viktor nods, carefully cradling the baby in his arms, and turns to walk back down the path.

Yuuri makes for the back door of the hospital, letting himself in. There’s no one there to meet him, which is surprising. “Hello?” he calls, wandering the abandoned hallways.

Sister Loquacious finally finds him. “Oh, Master Yuuri! There you are, we’ve been expecting you for ever such a long time now,” she says, bustling up to him. “We thought you’d be coming in the front door, you usually do.” Her eyes focus on the basket. “And that’s - is that -“

“Sure is.” Yuuri extends his arm, basket dangling precariously from his fingers. It won’t drop, but it makes Sister Loquacious gasp. “The other baby’s already been… _ disposed of. _ So you don’t have to worry about that. Just pop this one in with the ambassador’s wife and no one will be the wiser.”

“Right you are, Master Yuuri, right you are.” The nun takes the basket. “All rather exciting, isn’t it? Our order was established ever such a long time ago, and all for this moment! I can hardly believe it’s really here, at long last.”

“Right,” Yuuri says. “Congratulations. I’m off. Lots to do.” He waves and makes his escape, her extended farewells following him down the hall.

Viktor’s waiting for him outside the car when he finally picks his way there through the trees. “I hope you don’t mind, but as we don’t have the basket anymore…” He gestures towards the backseat. Yuuri bends down and sees the Antichrist carefully settled into an incongruously modern car seat, still fast asleep.

“It’s fine,” Yuuri says. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“What are we going to do with the baby tonight?” Viktor asks as they speed back down the road the way they came.

Yuuri frowns. “We need to pick where we’re going to live with him. Can’t be too far from London, I’ve still got my studio, but we want to be out of the city proper.”

“Have you got a map?”

Yuuri flaps his hand at the glove compartment. There wasn’t a map in there a minute ago, but there will be now. Viktor pulls it out and unfolds it. “There’s a village not too far from here,” he reports. “Tadfield.”

“Tadfield it is,” Yuuri says. “We can stay there tonight, there’s bound to be a little inn or something, country villages always have an inn. Start looking for a place in the morning.”

“Right.” Viktor consults the map. “You’ll need to get back to the main road, but it’s only a couple of miles from here.”

With Viktor navigating, half an hour sees Yuuri pulling the Bentley into a parking spot. “See?” he says, gesturing at the building beside them. “Little inn. Come on, baby,” he adds, and retrieves the Antichrist from the car seat.

Viktor handles the talking, producing enough cash from somewhere to cover two nights. The innkeeper has a crib on hand, and Yuuri settles the baby down without waking him. “There we are,” he says. “Strange he has to sleep, don’t you think?”

“How do you mean?” Viktor asks.

“Well, we don’t,” Yuuri says. “_Have _ to sleep, I mean, I know you like to. So why should he?”

“He’s human, isn’t he?” Viktor settles himself on the edge of the (rather small) bed. “That’s the whole point, like with his counterpart. And humans have to sleep.”

“I suppose.” Yuuri wanders over to the bed and sits down beside Viktor. “Sorry for springing this whole thing on you last minute.”

Viktor shrugs. “It’s an adventure. And raising him together was a good idea.” He cuts his gaze sideways at Yuuri. “You didn’t need to seduce me into it, you know, I would have agreed anyway.”

Yuuri looks at him, panicked, but there’s an amused twinkle in Viktor’s eye. “Sorry,” he says. “If it helps, I hated doing it.”

Viktor pats his knee. “Quite all right, my dear, I understand. It was an admirable effort.” He shuffles back and lays down. “Now, need to or not, I’m going to try and get some sleep.” He pats the bed next to him. “Care to join me?”

Yuuri looks at the pillow next to Viktor’s head. “Nah, I’ll stay up. In case something happens.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, Yuuri.” When Yuuri looks at him, Viktor’s smile is soft and fond. Yuuri’s heart clenches. “But fine, you keep watch. Once the sun’s up we’ll find somewhere to, well. To live, I suppose.” His eyes drift shut.

“Sweet dreams,” Yuuri whispers, going against every demonic instinct he has. Thankfully, Viktor’s already asleep.


	3. Mesopotamia, 3004 BCE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor strides onto the Ark with all the presence and circumstance due to him as the presiding Principality. No one stops him, or thinks to question why the back of his robes billow out the way they do. Walking quickly but with dignity, he strides around the top deck and ducks behind a stack of barrels.

Viktor strides onto the Ark with all the presence and circumstance due to him as the presiding Principality. No one stops him, or thinks to question why the back of his robes billow out the way they do. Walking quickly but with dignity, he strides around the top deck and ducks behind a stack of barrels.

It takes a bit of wrangling to convince the dogs under his robes to come back out; the sun is boiling hot, and Viktor has miracled his clothes to stay cool and slightly damp. He manages it, however, and holds one up in front of him. “Now _ stay on the boat,_” he says, looking it in the eye. “It’s going to get completely nightmarish everywhere else in just a few hours, do you hear? _ Stay on the boat._” He sets the dog down and the two of them scamper off to get lost in the bowels of the Ark.

Right. Now for the rest of them. Viktor walks off the boat, past where Shem is starting to look a little suspiciously at him, and back to the copse of trees a quarter mile away. He selects another pair of dogs from the bunch tied to a particularly sturdy trunk and starts to stow them under his robes.

“Clever,” a familiar voice says, “but I’ve got a faster way.” Viktor spins to see Yuuri lounging against another tree, smirking at him. He’s holding eight dogs on leads, four sets of two. “Come on,” Yuuri says. “I saw you from below. Bring them all, less chance of being noticed the fewer trips we take.” Viktor unties the rest of the dogs and trots off after him towards the ship.

Yuuri leads him to the back of the vessel, where, Viktor sees, he has miracled away a small section of the wood. “Easier to get them in this way,” Yuuri explains, picking up one of the dogs, “and much less likely to be noticed.” He pops the dog through; Viktor hears it land with a thump.

Together they shovel the rest of the pups into the hole, Viktor handing them to Yuuri and Yuuri passing them through into the depths of the ship. The last dog through, Viktor passes a hand over the gap in the wood and it becomes solid again. “Are you stationed on board?” Viktor asks, turning to Yuuri.

Yuuri nods. “Meant to spread foment, start a few fights, make sure no one’s in too good a mood by the end of it. You?”

“Yes,” Viktor says. “To keep the peace.”

“Well,” Yuuri says with a smirk. “I’m sure I’ll see you around, then.” With a wave, he’s off back into the trees. Viktor sweeps around to the front of the boat, where Shem is eyeing him _ very _ suspiciously now, and boards just as the first few raindrops start to fall.


	4. One Week Before the Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri flips the eggs in the pan just as Yurio wanders into the kitchen. “Good morning.”
> 
> “Morning,” Yurio grumbles, slouching into a chair. His soft fall of blond hair drapes itself over one of his eyes. “I wanted pancakes.”
> 
> Turning the heat down, Yuuri reaches into the warmed oven and pulls out a plate stacked high with pancakes. “Blueberry and chocolate chip. I’m just making Viktor’s breakfast now.” He walks the plate over to the table. “And because it’s your birthday, I won’t even make you get your own syrup.” He fetches the bottle from the pantry, plunking it down next to the plate. “Happy birthday, Yurio.”
> 
> Yurio ducks away from Yuuri’s hand moving to muss his hair. “Thanks.” He starts to shovel the pancakes into his mouth.

Yuuri flips the eggs in the pan just as Yurio wanders into the kitchen. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Yurio grumbles, slouching into a chair. His soft fall of blond hair drapes itself over one of his eyes. “I wanted pancakes.”

Turning the heat down, Yuuri reaches into the warmed oven and pulls out a plate stacked high with pancakes. “Blueberry and chocolate chip. I’m just making Viktor’s breakfast now.” He walks the plate over to the table. “And because it’s your birthday, I won’t even make you get your own syrup.” He fetches the bottle from the pantry, plunking it down next to the plate. “Happy birthday, Yurio.”

Yurio ducks away from Yuuri’s hand moving to muss his hair. “Thanks.” He starts to shovel the pancakes into his mouth.

Viktor follows not long after, wrapped in a dressing gown and sniffing the air. “Something smells divine.”

“It’s the pancakes,” Yurio says around a mouthful of food. Viktor beams at him and moves over to where Yuuri stands by the stove.

Yuuri tips the eggs off onto a plate. “It’s not your birthday, so you can make your own toast,” he says, handing the plate to Viktor.

“Fair’s fair. I’ll make the next pot of coffee, too.” Viktor starts fussing with the toaster. Yuuri picks up his mug and joins Yurio at the table.

“You can go and play with your friends this morning, but be back for lunch,” he says. Yurio rolls his eyes but nods. “Your phone’s all charged up?” Another nod. “Okay. And remember what you do if you find an animal in the woods?”

“I call you, and you come and check it out,” Yurio recites. He shoves the last bite of pancake into his mouth. “Can I go now?”

“Swallow,” Viktor admonishes. Yurio theatrically swallows and opens his mouth. “Alright. Go on, now.” Yurio darts out of his chair, waving at both of them, and is out the door before Viktor can sit down. “Why did you remind him of the animal protocol?”

“Because of the hellhound, obviously.”

Viktor chokes on his toast. “Hellhound?”

Yuuri stares at him. “I told you about this last night!” Viktor blinks at him, uncomprehending. “Were you already asleep? You’ve got to stop falling asleep while your eyes are still open, at least wait until they’re closed.”

“What hellhound?” Viktor repeats.

“They’re sending him a hellhound,” Yuuri says. “To protect him, to help him and pad by his side. He’s supposed to name it, and that will be the start of him coming into his powers.”

Viktor gapes at him. “How did you not think to mention this before last night?”

“I thought I had!” Yuuri yelps. “Hand to - well, Satan, I thought I’d brought it up before. Downstairs sent me a reminder last night, which is when I mentioned it to you.”

Viktor rubs a hand across his forehead. “So at some point today, Yurio is going to receive a hellhound and we’ll find out if all our efforts have gone to waste.”

“Look on the bright side,” Yuuri tries. “He’s a cat person, so he might turn it down just for that.”

Viktor stares at him, then breaks into a little laugh. “There is that.”

“Seriously,” Yuuri says, reaching out to put a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “It’s going to be fine.”

——

Back in London, a man named Ji Guang Hong is about to be fired from a job.

All Guang Hong’s life, electronics have reacted to him the same way. That is to say, they have reacted in fear and excitement. Everything he touches turns to broken circuit boards and frayed wires. It’s a family curse; his mother is the same way. They still have a landline to call each other, just in case their cell phones spontaneously combust. (It’s happened before.)

“I made you sandwiches,” his mother says, pushing them into his hands as he walks out the door.

Guang Hong, who has also made sandwiches for his first day, accepts them. Some things are not worth the fight.

It’s a short trip to the office on the Tube, which was the job’s main selling point. Everything else he found advertised was either too far away or too advanced for his current skill level with computers (which is to say, beginner). The role of wages clerk at Holdings Holdings Inc., while likely to require computers, seemed basic enough, and it would get him out of the house.

There’s a short Human Resources orientation once he gets there, and he takes notes (by hand, on paper). He’s given a computer login and an email address and directed to an empty cubicle in the corner of the office.

“Okay,” he whispers to himself, flexing his fingers over the keyboard. “Just cut me a little break here, just a little one.” He types in his new login and hits _ Enter. _

The lights above his head go out. The lights in the whole office go out. All the computers turn off, sending up a wave of muttered curses. “Fuck,” he murmurs.

“What the hell just happened?” bellows his new manager. Guang Hong sighs and raises his hand. He’s back out the door in half an hour, the ink on his “voluntary resignation” paperwork still drying.

There’s no point in going home just yet, so he starts to wander. There’s a small grassy area about a mile away, he discovers, picking his way through the London streets with the sort of carelessness that only comes when you don’t care where you end up. There’s a street preacher there, and everyone on the sidewalk is giving him a wide berth.

No, not a street preacher - he’s in some sort of uniform. Not military, it’s far too shabby, and Guang Hong has seen enough military uniforms in movies to identify something that isn’t one. He circles around in front of the man and peers at his sign.

The not-a-street-preacher sees him looking. “Hello, young man. Have you an interest in witches?”

“Um,” Guang Hong says. “I’ve never particularly thought about it, one way or another.”

The man squints at him. “Well, that’s better than being in league with them, I suppose.” He rifles through the bag slung across his torso and emerges with a slightly crumpled pamphlet. “Here,” he says, extending it to Guang Hong. “Read that. I’ll be here for two more hours if you have any questions, or I’ll be back tomorrow.” Guang Hong takes the pamphlet. The man goes back to declaiming, something about people who give their cats funny names.

There’s a bench not far away, and Guang Hong manages to snag it before anyone else can sit down. He turns his attention to the pamphlet. _ The Scourge of Witchcraft, _ the cover proclaims. _ Know What To Look For And How To Fight Them When They Find You. _

It’s a quick read, the pamphlet; Guang Hong’s finished in under ten minutes. He flips it shut and looks at the back. _ The Witchfinder Army is always looking for recruits, _ it reads. _ Protect your fellow man, serve your country. Stipends available. _ Guang Hong stands up and goes back to the man.

“This says you’re hiring?” he asks, holding up the pamphlet.

The man scowls. “The Witchfinder Army does not _ hire, _ it _ recruits. _ Witch-finding is not a common job, it’s a vocation.”

“Right,” Guang Hong says. “Well, I’m interested.”

A look of blank shock crosses the man’s face before he can catch himself. “Right,” he manages after a few seconds. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. What’s your name?”

“Guang Hong.”

“Well, Guang Hong, I’m Georgi. There’s an address on that pamphlet.” Guang Hong checks, and there is. “Meet me there tomorrow. 9am sharp. Don’t be late.”

——

Leo helps the movers with the last box, tips them all generously, and waves their truck off as they leave. He pulls out his phone and calls his mother. “Hola,” he says when she answers. “I’m here, the movers just left.”

“How does it look?” his mother asks. “Can you sense the evil presence?”

“Not yet. I’m gonna unpack a little bit, then I’ll get started looking. Jasmine Cottage is gorgeous, I wish you could see it.”

“Well, save the world, and I might be able to.”

There’s an entire house to outfit, and he has no chance of getting all his unpacking done in one day, but he can at least do the essentials. He gets his clothes into the dresser and puts his toiletries in the bathroom, and makes a decent start at putting plates and bowls into the kitchen cabinets. Before he has to stop for lunch, he goes to the box closed with green tape and slits it open. Inside, carefully padded with crumpled newspaper pages and dish cloths, sits a book and an old-fashioned Rolodex. He removes both, sets the Rolodex on the coffee table, and carefully stows the book in his messenger bag. There’s no food in the house; he’ll have to go out for lunch. Hopefully there’s a restaurant or an inn or something in the village.

There isn’t what Leo, born and raised in New York, would call a _ restaurant, _ per se, but there is a cozy little diner that serves lunch. He pays with a few of his newly-acquired pound notes and settles into a booth by the window. He feels a faint pang of guilt pulling the book out while he eats, but a little bit of mayo is hardly the worst thing the book has seen. There’s a pencil doodle on the title page done by his great-great-grandmother when she was a girl, after all, and Leo _ knows _ in his bones that the coffee stain on the back cover is from his own mother, despite her fervent denials.

Prophecy 1346: _ Flower bee the name, but a bayse of operations be the role. Ye shall live there, Leo, and ye shall work there, and ye shall combat the Ending of the Worlde. _

He finishes his lunch, pays, and shoves the book back into his bag. Time to get to know the neighborhood.

What he really needs is a survey of places within a certain range of the village where he can do his work and not be noticed, so he starts by making his way to the outskirts of town and pacing out a perimeter. It really is a lovely corner of the world, tall trees and lush greenery and colorful wildflowers. The gravel roads crunch nicely underfoot, and the dirt ones never dissolve into mud puddles. It’s almost uncanny.

He’s made it about halfway before four small shapes come bursting out of the woods to his left and onto the path. Children, Leo realizes, when they suddenly catch sight of him and stop their horseplay. “Hi!” he says brightly. He’s never been much of a dab hand with children, but it’s not for lack of enthusiasm. “I’m Leo. Do you guys live around here?”

“We’re _ not _ all guys,” one of them, a girl with fiery red hair says. “And yes, we do.”

“My apologies,” Leo says. “In America it’s a gender-neutral term, but I’ll be more careful here.”

“If you’re from America, why are you here?” asks another one, with a patch of red in his hair. Leo can see one pointed tooth caught on his lip.

“I’m doing some work in the area, so I rented Jasmine Cottage,” Leo says. “I’ll be here for a while.”

The four children look at each other. One of them, blond, looks at the last child, with dark hair and a serious expression; Dark Hair nods, and Blond steps forth. “Scuse me for asking, if it’s not a personal question,” Blond asks, “but are you a witch? Only Mila’s dad said a witch moved into Jasmine Cottage, and that’s you.”

Leo beams. “Why yes! I _ am _ a witch.”

“Thought witches were girls,” Toothy says under his breath, half a question directed at Blond.

“That’s a common misconception,” Leo explains. “But witches can be one of any number of genders, or no gender at all.”

“Can a person even _ be _ no gender at all?” the girl - Mila? - asks. Leo nods solemnly. “_Wicked.” _

“You’re not gonna go putting spells on us or anything, are you?” asks Blond.

Leo narrows his eyes. “Not unless you steal from me.” Blond looks suitably unnerved and shakes his head. “What are your guys’ names?”

“I’m Yuri,” Blond says, pointing to himself. “That’s Mila,” he goes on, pointing at the girl, “that’s Kenjirou,” Toothy, “and this is Otabek,” he finishes, gesturing back to Short, Dark, and Serious. “We run these woods.”

“Good to know,” Leo says. “Nice to meet you. Hey, while I have you here, you guys haven’t noticed anything odd happening around here lately, have you? Great beasts, or ominous figures, or evil portents?”

“Witchy stuff, you mean?” Kenjirou asks. Leo nods. “I haven’t seen anything like that.”

Yuri shakes his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. But if we see anything, we’ll let you know.”

“I’d appreciate it. Well, I’ll let you get on with your business, and I’ll get back to mine. See you later!” Leo steps around them on the path and continues on his way.

——

Yuri leads his friends down the road and into his front door at the stroke of 1:00pm, exactly on time for lunch. “I’m back!” he hollers as they all kick their shoes off.

Viktor pokes his head in from the kitchen and waves at them. “Lunch will be ready in two minutes!” he says brightly. “You guys can come on in and have a seat, I’ll get you some juice.”

“Not orange for Otabek,” Yuri says as they file into the kitchen and arrange themselves around the table.

Viktor nods. “He’s allergic. I remember.” He pulls out four glasses from the cabinet and starts pouring apple juice, working around Yuuri, who’s stirring something bubbling in a big pot on the stove. “Did you guys have a good morning?”

“It was _ wicked,” _ Kenjirou says.

“You think everything’s wicked,” Yuri points out. “But it was pretty cool. We met a witch.”

Viktor and Yuuri look at each other. “A witch?” Yuuri asks, looking back at the pot.

“Yeah, a witch!” Mila says. “We asked him and everything, and he said he was. Asked us if there was a great beast in town and stuff like that.”

“We told him we hadn’t seen anything,” Yurio says. “I wish there _ was _ a great beast, though. A great big cat.”

“For your birthday?” Kenjirou asks.

Yuri likes that idea. “Yeah! And I’d name him something awesome, like…” He casts about for the coolest things he can think of. “Like Puma Tiger Scorpion!”

Viktor drops one of the glasses. “Are you all right?” Otabek asks, standing up.

“No, no, I’m fine, dear,” Viktor says, motioning him to sit back in his chair. He keeps shooting quick glances at Yuuri as he bends down to start picking up the glass. “You all just stay put, I’ll grab the broom.”

Yuuri watches him bustle out, his brow furrowed over his ever-present sunglasses. “Puma Tiger Scorpion’s a stupid name for a cat,” Mila says, laughing.

“I think it’s a cool name,” Otabek says. Yuri smiles at him and scowls at Mila.

Yuuri dishes up four bowls from inside the pot, which turns out to be full of Yuri’s favorite stew. The four set to eating as the grown-ups clean up the broken glass. They keep looking at each other, Yuri notices over Kenjirou and Mila’s chatter. Like they’ve just gotten bad news. They take their own lunch in the living room once they’re done with the glass.

Yuri goes back for thirds of the stew, but even so they’re done eating within forty-five minutes. He bounces out into the living room. “Thanks for lunch. Can we go play in my room?”

“Of course, honey,” Viktor says, looking up from where he and Yuuri are bent close together on the couch. “Just keep in mind that whatever mess you make, you’ll have to clean up tomorrow.”

Yuri stops bouncing. “Not today?”

“Day off, for your birthday.”

Yuri grins. “Thanks! Come on, guys,” he calls back into the kitchen. Mila, Kenjirou, and Otabek file out and follow him into his ground-floor bedroom. “Right,” Yuri says, once everyone’s assembled. “Where did we leave off yesterday?”

“The space prince had kidnapped the pirates and was holding them for ransom,” Kenjirou pipes up, “but the pirate king wasn’t gonna pay it.”

“Right,” Mila adds, “he was gonna send his tiger to rescue them.”

Yuri nods. “Okay. Otabek, you be the space prince. Kenjirou and Mila, you’re the pirates. I’ll be the tiger.”

They’re deep into it, Otabek neck-deep in a proper Space Prince Monologue, when they all hear it - a hearty _ meow _ from outside. Yuri leaps up from all fours and darts to the window. “There’s a cat outside!” He slams the window open and sticks his head out. “Here, kitty kitty. No collar,” he reports back to his gang.

Kenjirou gasps. “It’s the great beast! It’s come to you after all!”

“Come on, let’s go.” Yuri takes off for his door, tearing through it and to the front door. He hears Yuuri and Viktor call out after him as he darts outside and runs around the side of the house.

The cat runs to meet him. “Hi, Puma Tiger Scorpion,” Yuri croons to it, dropping to his knees and extending his hand. His gang are close behind him, the grownups not far behind. The cat delicately sniffs his hand and allows him to scratch under its chin. It’s _ soft. _

He looks up at Yuuri and Viktor. Viktor’s face is white, and Yuuri looks devastated. “What’s wrong?” Yuri asks.

They look at each other. “It’s too late,” Yuuri says. “He’s named it, it counted.”

“Are you certain?” Viktor whispers.

Yuuri nods. “I felt it.”

“What are you two _ talking _ about?” Yuri demands. _ “Tell me.” _

Their faces both snap towards him. “Nothing,” Yuuri says. “Grown-up stuff. Don’t worry about it.” Mila and Kenjirou roll their eyes. Grown-up stuff is universally _ boring. _ Otabek crouches down and makes his own overtures towards the cat.

“Can I keep it?” Yuri asks. “It came for my birthday, just like we said.”

The grown-ups look at each other again. “I don’t suppose there’s anything we can do about it?” Viktor asks Yuuri.

Yuuri shakes his head. “It’s too late,” he repeats, and turns back towards Yuri. “We’ll bring it inside and call the vet,” he says. “She’ll recognize it if it’s someone’s cat, and she’ll be able to give it an exam and make sure everything’s alright.”

“Is that necessary?” Viktor asks. “Given…”

“Best to keep up appearances,” Yuuri whispers. Yuri gets the sense he wasn’t meant to hear that, and it makes him mad. A soft purr from Puma Tiger Scorpion, though, draws his attention away from the grown-up nonsense.

“Come on,” Yuri says, scooping up the cat. “Let’s go inside.”

“Don’t let it bite you,” Otabek says, straightening up. “It might have rabies.”

“It doesn’t,” Yuuri says, and leads them all back inside.

——

In a dingy office building in Oxford, there resides the corporate offices of an international delivery company. Its name isn’t important; what matters is the order that’s just _ ding_ed in their computer system. An inventory number is generated, the date of drop-off is checked (and double-checked, and triple-checked — no, that really says the items were dropped off six thousand years ago), and a courier is assigned. It’s Cao Bin’s lucky day.

He receives his itinerary. A quick jaunt to Italy for a double delivery, that’ll be nice, he’s always wanted to go there, and then it’s off to the Czech Republic for part three. The location for the fourth part just reads: _ Anywhere will do. _ “Is this right?” Bin asks his superior.

His superior shrugs. “That’s what it says,” she answers. “Ours is not to reason why.”

“Ours is to deliver packages,” he finishes. A familiar refrain. “Good thing I got that automatic fish-feeder up and running at home.”

——

Yuuri shuts the door to Yurio’s room and quietly shuffles away, not wanting to wake the boy. He makes his way up the stairs and knocks softly on Viktor’s door. It opens immediately. “What do we do?” Viktor asks as Yuuri slips into the room. “There’s nothing _ to _ do, right? He’s named it, he’s coming into his power. It’s all over.”

“It’s not over yet,” Yuuri says. “It’s not over until - well. Until it’s all over. There must still be something we can do.” He sinks into the armchair by Viktor’s bed. “Isn’t hope your thing, anyway?”

“It’s not part of the traditional divine retinue,” Viktor says, coming to sit facing Yuuri on the bed. “Love, forgiveness, patience, but not hope.”

“Well, have some anyway,” Yuuri says. “It can’t be all on me, we’re both going to have to work at this together.”

“Right,” Viktor says, and makes a brave attempt at a smile. “It’s not over yet.”

Yuuri’s phone rings. Exchanging a glance with Viktor, Yuuri pulls it out of his pocket and answers it. There’s no caller listed, but he knows who it is anyway. “Hello, Phichit.”

“Yuuri!” Phichit’s voice exclaims. “Long time no talk! How’s America treating you?”

“America. Right. It’s treating me fine, lots of, um, vice and sin and whatnot.”

“Good, good, glad to hear it. And how’s the boy?”

“The boy. Uh, evil. Definitely evil.” Yuuri looks back at Viktor, who shrugs helplessly. “Definitely, definitely evil.”

“Did you get to see the hellhound? I caught a glimpse as they let it out. Monstrous thing.”

“Right, monstrous. Big, slavering beast. Lots of drool,” Yuuri offers.

“Really just _ unconscionable _ amounts of drool,” Phichit agrees. “Well, I just wanted to check in. I’d chat with you more, but, well, lots going on, as I’m sure you understand. We’ll catch up once the war’s been won?”

“Of course,” Yuuri says. “Once the war’s been won.”

“Great. Looking forward to it! Talk to you soon.” Phichit hangs up.

Yuuri looks at Viktor. “I don’t think we really thought this through, did we?”

“Nothing for it now,” Viktor says with another shaky smile. “We just have to see it through.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes. “He’s a good kid, is the thing,” Yuuri says.

“The _ best. _” Viktor shuffles back on the bed and lies down. “Are you staying in here tonight?”

“If you don’t mind,” Yuuri answers. “Rather not be alone with my thoughts.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Viktor says sternly. “You know I never mind. And you know I won’t mind if you’d rather share the bed than that silly old chair.”

“I like this chair,” Yuuri says defensively. “It’s plenty comfortable.”

“Have it your way.” Viktor flicks his hand at the lamp, which goes out. “Good night, Yuuri.”

“Good night, Viktor.”

Viktor, as is his wont, is asleep instantly. Yuuri sits there in the dark, staring at the outline of him on the bed, thinking hard.


	5. Rome, 41 CE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, hello,” Yuuri says, dropping into the empty seat next to the angel. “Fancy meeting you here.”
> 
> “Yuuri!” Viktor says, his habitual smile spreading across his face. “I didn’t know you were in Rome, last I heard you were off in Australia somewhere.”
> 
> Yuuri shrugs. “Got assigned a couple temptations among the Emperor’s family, thought I’d make a trip of it. Why are you here?”
> 
> “Oh, you know,” Viktor says expansively, waving a hand through the air. “This and that.”

“Oh, hello,” Yuuri says, dropping into the empty seat next to the angel. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yuuri!” Viktor says, his habitual smile spreading across his face. “I didn’t know you were in Rome, last I heard you were off in Australia somewhere.”

Yuuri shrugs. “Got assigned a couple temptations among the Emperor’s family, thought I’d make a trip of it. Why are you here?”

“Oh, you know,” Viktor says expansively, waving a hand through the air. “This and that." Knowing the angel, he probably means he came for the food. “And once I was in town, I heard about these fights and decided to see what all the fuss was about. Oh, good Heavens,” he cries, covering his eyes as one gladiator stabs another in the stomach down in the arena.

“Doesn’t seem quite your scene,” Yuuri says with a grin, watching him cringe.

“It’s not the violence that upsets me, it’s the _ waste,_” Viktor mutters, turning back towards the fight. “I mean, look at that one. I’ve never seen a more handsome human in my _ life, _ and with those muscles he could do quite a lot of good in the world. Instead he’s set to die here. What a waste of heavenly beauty.”

Yuuri looks at the gladiator in question - tan skin, thick, dark hair, admittedly rippling musculature - and shrugs again. “Eh. I’ve seen better.” He looks at Viktor. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Do you think?” Viktor wavers. “I _ have _ been meaning to try Petronius’ new restaurant. I’ve heard he does remarkable things to oysters.”

“There you go,” Yuuri says. “I’ve never eaten an oyster.” He snaps his fingers, setting a few threads in motion, and stands up. “We’ll be wanting to get out of here soon, might as well go now.”

“Oh, very well.” Viktor accepts Yuuri’s hand up and they make their way out of the crowd. “What did you do?” Viktor asks as they leave the arena.

“Set the animals free. In a few minutes they’ll be among the crowd.”

“_ Yuuri, _ ” Viktor gasps. “They’ll all be killed! I can’t leave _ now._"

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “Oh, hush, no one’ll be killed. Couple of scrapes and a good story to tell the grandkids. More fun this way.”

Viktor beams at him. “I knew you were a soft heart, deep down.”

“Oh, go on, make my day.” Yuuri scowls. “Are we getting oysters or not?”

“This way, my dear,” Viktor trills, and takes his arm.


	6. Four Days Before the Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guang Hong treats himself to an iced bun in addition to his steaming cup of English breakfast with four sugars. After all, he has a job now.
> 
> He slightly regrets this decision when he gets to the door of the building the Witchfinder Army is housed in and has no spare hand to open the door, but that problem is solved for him when it opens on its own. No, not on its own — Chris is standing in the hallway. “Hello, love,” Chris says. “I saw you coming down the street with your hands full, thought I’d help you out.”
> 
> “Thanks,” Guang Hong says, and starts to shuffle in past him. Chris doesn’t move to let him by; instead, he presses closer with an amused look. Guang Hong blushes. “Is Georgi in yet, do you know?”
> 
> (Or: Guang Hong meets his destiny, Viktor makes a misstep, and Bin delivers two packages.)

Guang Hong treats himself to an iced bun in addition to his steaming cup of English breakfast with four sugars. After all, he has a job now.

He slightly regrets this decision when he gets to the door of the building the Witchfinder Army is housed in and has no spare hand to open the door, but that problem is solved for him when it opens on its own. No, not on its own — Chris is standing in the hallway. “Hello, love,” Chris says. “I saw you coming down the street with your hands full, thought I’d help you out.”

“Thanks,” Guang Hong says, and starts to shuffle in past him. Chris doesn’t move to let him by; instead, he presses closer with an amused look. Guang Hong blushes. “Is Georgi in yet, do you know?”

Chris tuts, looking down at the Witchfinder Army’s door, opposite his own. “I think he’s living in the office these days.” He leans even closer to Guang Hong. “My theory is heartbreak. You only see devotion to one’s job like Georgi’s in a recently broken heart.” Chris finally shuts the door and ushers Guang Hong down the hallway. “I’ll just get this door for you as well, there you are. Oh, Georgi!” he trills into the newly-revealed apartment. “Lunch is at 1:30, so don’t be late this time or the roast will get cold.”

“I have better things to do than eat with my neighbors,” Georgi snaps back from where he’s bent over a stack of newspapers in the corner.

“I’ll make sure he’s there on time,” Guang Hong says to Chris. This is a familiar song and dance, even though Guang Hong’s only been at this job for three days, but Georgi actually _ was _late yesterday and Guang Hong is a little worried he doesn’t eat when Chris doesn’t feed him.

“Bless you, dear,” Chris says, patting Guang Hong’s face. “I’ll let you boys get back to your work.” He leaves a cloud of cologne behind him when he shuts the door.

“Good morning,” Guang Hong says to Georgi, setting his tea on the nearest table and going on the hunt for a clean plate in the kitchen. “How was your evening?”

“Passable,” Georgi grunts, using his scissors to slice through a sheet of newsprint. “Came across a very interesting article after you left. Farmer’s crops been eaten by insects for the third year running. Clear case of vengeful witchcraft at work.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Guang Hong says. The plate he’s found is a little dusty and there’s a bit of crust on the edge, but that’s easily avoided. He sets his bun down. “I found something yesterday, while you were at dinner with Chris, but I had to run for the bus before you got back.”

Georgi looks at him properly for the first time. “Oh? Find something interesting, did you?”

“I think I did.” Guang Hong retrieves the articles he’d cut out the day prior, offering the stack to Georgi. “I found a town not far from London with some strange weather patterns.”

“Rain of blood?” Georgi asks, taking the articles and flipping through them. “Profane words written in the clouds? Swarm of frogs?”

“No, nothing like that,” Guang Hong says, faltering. “It’s just - there’s always perfect weather? For the time of year, I mean. The weather is _ perfect, _ all the time.”

Georgi cocks an eyebrow at him. “Hardly evidence of witchcraft, lad.”

“Perfect weather all the time isn’t normal!” Guang Hong insists. “There’s been a white Christmas there every year for the past _ eleven years, _ Georgi, when was the last time it snowed on Christmas? And the springs are always cool and clear, and the Augusts are hot and humid _ every day. _ There’s something going on, Georgi, I know there is.”

“Hmm.” Georgi looks back at the newspapers in his hands. “That is unusual, I’ll grant you. Alright, you can go and check it out.”

“Me?” Guang Hong asks, taken aback. “I thought you’d want to go look yourself.”

Georgi shakes his head. “I’m not one for fieldwork.” He looks at the entryway, where Chris had stood a few minutes previously. “Besides, we don’t have the money for a train ticket, and you have a car, don’t you?”

“That’s true…”

“No, lad, you go and scope things out and report back to me. I’ll guide you through what to do. You’ll leave this afternoon,” he proclaims. “That’ll give me time to get it together.”

“Get what together?” Guang Hong asks.

Georgi looks at him. “Your armor of righteousness, of course.”

——

Yuuri hangs up the phone and throws it onto the table in disgust. “_Daily _ check-ins? What do they think I am, some minor imp? Who’s decided _ I _ have the time for daily check-ins? I’m meant to be monitoring the Antichrist, for hea- for hell’s sake!”

“I think that’s precisely _ why _ they’re so keen to check in so often,” Viktor says, irritatingly reasonable. “And you _ are _ monitoring the Antichrist, my dear. It’s just you’re doing it in a little more of a hands-on manner than anyone _ down there _ expects.”

“Still,” Yuuri presses on, determined to be annoyed. “It’s not like I wouldn’t tell them if something were off.” Viktor levels a Look at him. “Alright, fine, I wouldn’t tell them if something were off. Obviously. Because something is off and I haven’t told them. But _ they _ don’t know that, they think I’m doing my job admirably.”

“When was the last time you and Phichit had any real time together?” Viktor asks. “Aren’t you friends? Perhaps he just misses you and is taking the excuse to catch up a bit.”

Yuuri blinks. That could be it. Before he can answer, Yurio’s door opens and the boy comes out, Potya at his heels. “Can we go to Otabek’s house?” he asks, leaning on the back of the couch and addressing Yuuri.

“When you say _ we…_”

“Me and Potya, obviously. Not you lot. Can we?”

“You know Otabek’s sister is allergic to cats,” Viktor says.

Yurio rolls his eyes. “That won’t be a problem. Potya’s hypno— hypan—”

“Hypoallergenic,” Yuuri says, “And no, he’s not, the vet told us.”

“_ Yes, _ he _ is,” _ Yurio says. There’s a faint frisson of _ something _ in his voice; Yuuri can hear a distant rushing sound. He looks at Viktor, who’s looking back at him with wide eyes.

“Why don’t you call first,” Yuuri says slowly, “and ask his parents if it’s okay if you bring Potya? It’s not polite to bring a pet to a friend’s house without warning.”

Yurio scrunches up his face but slouches for the house phone in the kitchen. “Did you hear that?” Viktor whispers, leaning close to Yuuri.

“I think the cat’s hypoallergenic now,” Yuuri whispers back.

They sit in silence, exchanging meaningful glances, until Yurio hangs up the phone and comes back out. “His mom said it’s fine.”

Yuuri looks at Viktor, who sighs and says, “Alright, then. Go and get him in his carrier and you can go over.”

“Can I bring Otabek back for lunch?”

“Of course,” Viktor says. “He’s always welcome.” Yurio disappears behind his door. “Maybe Otabek will be a calming influence on him?” Viktor whispers. Yuuri just shrugs.

——

Guang Hong takes the turning off the highway for Tadfield, whistling to himself. His bell, book, and candle are piled on the seat next to him. The thumbscrews and firelighters he’d dumped in the first trash can he saw upon leaving headquarters. After a moment’s deliberation he’d decided to keep the pin; you never knew when a good sturdy pin would be called for. It’s wrapped carefully in his handkerchief, to avoid accidental pokes, and stowed in his pocket.

Even the roads out here are beautiful, he notes, peering through his front window as he approaches the town. Luscious foliage, clean gravel, just the right amount of wildlife darting out of the way of his little car. It’s idyllic.

He’s just starting to wonder whether there will be parking in town when his attention is caught by a man standing on the side of the road, waving at him. Guang Hong pulls over. “Is something the matter?” he asks, rolling down the window.

“No, nothing’s the matter at all!” the man chirps in an American accent, looking him up and down. “You’re right on time.”

“Is there a fair or something?” Guang Hong looks out at the town, but can find no evidence of a to-do, so he looks back at the man.

“No fair. Listen, can I get in?” the man asks. “It’ll be easier to navigate from the passenger seat, and anyway I won’t be able to keep up on foot.”

“Oh, do you need a ride?” Guang Hong picks up his armor of righteousness and tosses it in the backseat. “I’m not familiar with the area, but if you can navigate I can drop you somewhere.”

The man gives him a weird look. “I honestly wasn’t expecting that to work. You really shouldn’t go giving rides to random strangers you’ve just met, it isn’t safe! It’s alright with me, but just as a general rule.” That said, he does come around the car and slide into the newly-vacated passenger seat. “Hi. I’m Leo. I’m the one you’re looking for.” He sticks out his hand.

Guang Hong takes it. “I’m Guang Hong,” he says. “So you’re the one making the weather all weird in this area?”

Leo looks surprised. “What? Agnes didn’t say anything about weather patterns.” Guang Hong finally notices the battered old Rolodex Leo is holding as Leo opens it and starts flipping through the index cards inside. “I would definitely remember something about weather patterns. So no, I don’t think that’s me. But I am your destiny. Keep going down this road, then take the first left you come to,” he adds, pointing, as he continues to rifle through his cards.

Guang Hong drives. Leo directs him around the outskirts of the town to a small, picturesque cottage nestled into the woods. “Welcome to Jasmine Cottage,” Leo says, hopping out of the car. Guang Hong follows suit. “You’d better come inside.”

Once inside the cottage, Leo carefully detaches one index card from the Rolodex and hands it to Guang Hong. “Read this.”

_ At three-quarter o’ the hour past midday, foure days before the Ende Times, a stranger will appeare in towne who will be of Greate Aide to you, my descendant. Keep him closer than any other, for ye shall not fulfill your destinie without him. _

Guang Hong looks up. Leo’s busily filling a kettle with water. “12:45, that’s when I got to town. Who wrote this?”

Leo looks up. “My great-great-great-great-great grandmother, Agnes Nutter,” he says, and sets the kettle to boil. “She wrote the only book of prophecy ever to contain nothing but true predictions.”

“Right.” Guang Hong looks down at the card in his hand. “And she told you to wait for me?”

“That’s right.”

“And what’s this about the end times?”

Leo sighs. “We may want to wait for the tea for that.”

This seems fair to Guang Hong. “Then what’s your destiny?”

“To avert the end times, of course.”

Guang Hong frowns. “I’m going to need a minute with this, you understand.”

“Of course!” Leo says again. “The tea won’t be ready for another few minutes, go ahead and think it over.” He slides the Rolodex over to him. “Take a peek if you like, it might help.”

Guang Hong flips to a random card. _ Prophecy 2214: In December 1980 an Apple will arise no man can eat. Invest thy money in Master Jobbes’s machine and good fortune will tend thy days_. “How many shares did your family buy?” he asks.

“Five thousand,” Leo replies. Guang Hong whistles.

By the time the tea is ready, Guang Hong’s made up his mind. “Alright,” he says, taking the mug Leo passes him. “I’m in.”

“Really?” Leo asks. “I’ll be honest, I thought it would take more convincing. I’ve never told a non-descendent before, I thought it would be a harder sell.”

Guang Hong shrugs. “I was sent here to ferret out witchcraft. This seems pretty witchy to me. And besides, the consequences for not believing it if it is true are higher than those for believing it if it’s not. I either look like an ass in front of a stranger, or I help save the world.”

Leo beams at him. “That’s it exactly. Now drink up, and I’ll explain everything.”

——

At precisely 3:03pm, Viktor sets his book down, puts his shoes on, and walks into the woods.

It’s a simple matter to draw a summoning circle in the dirt just inside the tree line; his handler isn’t a particularly highly-ranked angel, and the sigils are on the simpler side. Viktor sets up a simple warding miracle which will send anyone coming close haring off in the opposite direction, and starts to pray.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually the rocks and twigs he’d used to mark out his circle start to glow, and a shape takes form inside it. “Ah, Viktor!” JJ says, grinning, once he’s in focus. “We haven’t heard from you in eons! Must be at least a couple of centuries now.”

“Haha, yeah, I’ve been keeping busy,” Viktor says.

“I’ll say! Still hard at work counteracting the work of that one demon, what was his name? Enron?”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, “and yes, he certainly keeps me on my toes. Night and day work, really, fighting his… evil… Anyway, Yuuri isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

JJ folds his hands in front of him. “Alright, then, to business. No time for a friendly chat, I understand.” Viktor suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

Having gotten this far, Viktor suddenly realizes that _ this far _ is as far as he’d thought. “Well, I just wanted to, well, check in, I suppose? See how things were going on your end, make sure there aren’t any… big changes… coming down the pipeline, so to speak.”

“You know Heaven doesn’t use pipes,” JJ says. “And I’m not sure what you mean. What big changes would there be?”

“Well,” Viktor says, casting about for anything to say. “I just thought, well, it’d be about time, wouldn’t it?”

“About time for what?”

“For, well.” Viktor drops his voice to a whisper. “For the Plan.”

All the joviality that Viktor thought inherent to JJ’s being suddenly drops. “Viktor, are you saying there’s been a sighting of the Antichrist on Earth?”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” Viktor points out, thinking quickly. He’s biologically incapable of lying to another angel, that’s just the way of it, so he has to be careful with his words. “I haven’t had anybody tell me they’ve seen the Antichrist lately.”

“But there are rumors?” JJ presses. Viktor scrunches up his face - there’s really nothing he can say to that. But that’s enough for JJ, who claps his hands together and - jumps in place? “_Yes,_” he crows, fists punching the air in triumph. “Oh, thank you, Viktor, this is the best news you could have brought me.”

“You’re… happy?” Viktor asks. “About the Antichrist finally being in play? Potentially,” he adds quickly.

“This is my chance! If I can find him and get the armies prepared for the war, I’ll finally get the drop on Yakov! They’ll have to promote me!” JJ claps. “You’ve done well, Viktor. Keep your ears peeled for any more rumors, you hear?” Viktor reluctantly nods, and with a final _ whoop, _ JJ flickers out of view.

“Well, crap,” Viktor says, and kicks the circle open.

——

Guang Hong hefts the overlarge tuning fork in both hands, holding it exactly 1.7 meters off the ground. Leo peers through the tines, nods, and makes a note on his phone. “I have to say,” Guang Hong says, letting the fork drop. “Witchcraft isn’t at all like I thought it would be.”

“How did you think it would be?” Leo asks, distracted; he’s dropped to the ground and seems to be listening to the dirt. “Magic potions, herbs, robes, pointy wands?”

“Well, yes.”

Leo stands up and brushes dirt off his face, shaking his head. “No good, I’m afraid. That’s all charlatan stuff. Real witchcraft is in the details. Come on, I want to get a reading from the other side of that boulder. Something’s warping my reading here.”

_ The other side of that boulder _ turns out to be occupied, however; Guang Hong is taken aback to see a tiny blond child crouching behind it. The child lifts a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. Guang Hong winces; he isn’t good with children.

Another child comes racing out from between two trees, headed straight past the boulder. In a flash, the blond child runs out and tackles her, sending both of them sprawling. “Got you!” the blond child shouts. “That’s two points for me.”

“No fair, you had help!” the girl shouts back. Guang Hong looks at Leo - the two children are within inches of each other, why are they shouting? Leo shrugs.

Two other children poke their heads out from behind the trees. “Is it over?” one of them asks.

“I’m winning!”

“Hello, Yuri,” Leo says, addressing the blond child. “And hello Mila, Kenjirou, Otabek. What are you playing?”

“We’re playing Tackle Tag,” Mila informs him. “It’s like tag but you have to tackle.”

“What are you two playing?” Yuri asks, eyeing the tuning fork. “That looks painful.”

“Oh, we’re not hitting each other with it,” Leo says. “And we’re not playing a game.”

“Can’t be playing a game, if you’re not hitting each other,” another child — Kenjirou? — mutters.

Leo breezes past this. “Guang Hong and I are hunting evil.”

All of a sudden, four sets of young eyes are shining up at them. “Cool,” Mila breathes.

“Do you need help?” Yuri asks, officious. “Only it seems to me like we know the area better than you, so we’d be good at hunting evil.”

Kenjirou speaks up again. “My mum says the greatest evil in the world is climate change.”

“And she’s right,” Leo says. “Climate change and nuclear power. The two greatest evils of the modern age, until eleven years ago.”

“What happened eleven years ago?” Yuri asks.

“You were _ born,_” Mila sniggers.

Yuri shoves her, and the four descend into a quick scuffle. Guang Hong watches, utterly baffled.

“What’s nuclur power?” Yuri asks, once he emerges victorious from the tussle.

“Oh, I know this,” Guang Hong says, unable to stop himself. All eyes turn to him. “Well, it’s a sort of power that comes from splitting the atom,” he says, suddenly unsure of himself. “It creates a huge amount of energy, but it can also be disastrous. Look at Chernobyl.”

Leo nods. “You want to see the worst humanity can do to itself, look up Chernobyl, and look up the size of the polar ice caps. It’s no wonder the world’s ending in four days.”

“Come on, let’s go hunt Chernobyl,” Yuri says, shoving Mila again, and with a wave, the four of them are off, darting back into the woods.

“Great kids,” Leo says, looking after them. “I met them my first day in town, did I tell you?”

“I’m not good with kids,” Guang Hong confesses.

Leo claps him on the shoulder. “You did fine. Now hold up that tuning fork for me again?”

——

Bin picks his way down the unfamiliar path, careful not to trip. There’s trash _ everywhere, _ empty soda cans and plastic bags and slick patches of what looks like gasoline matted over the grass. Up ahead, he can see a solitary figure on a bench, looking out over the park. “Party name of Emil?” he asks, once he’s within range.

“Just look at it all, will you?” the man asks, gazing out over the array of garbage strewn across the field.

“Damn shame is what it is,” Bin says. “Park like this oughta be beautiful, green grass and clear paths and clearly designated trash receptacles. You have to sign for it,” he adds, proffering his clipboard. Emil takes it and signs a name which is not Emil. “Right-o, sir, thanks ever so, and here’s your package.” He hands it over and watches Emil peel back the tape. “I have to say, this is one of the odder jobs I’ve ever taken in my time at the delivery company,” Bin says. “If you don’t mind my asking, do you all know each other? Only the other two, the twins, seemed very close, and it would make sense if you all knew each other. They gave me an odd feeling, those two. Not saying that you give me an odd feeling, sir! Just that they did.”

“Wait until you meet the next one,” Emil says, and pulls a crown from the box. At his touch, the silver crown starts to tarnish; in seconds it’s a dull black. He places it on his head.

“Right, that’s me done then, sir, and have a wonderful day.” Bin makes his way back down the path to where his truck is parked in the lot nearby. Settling himself into the driver’s seat, he pulls out the paperwork for the next delivery. _ Anywhere will do. _ He feels a twinge in his left arm.

A sinking feeling in his gut, Bin flips the inventory sheet over and reaches for his pen. _ FEED MY FISH, _ he scrawls onto the blank back of the paper, before his chest gives an almighty ache and his vision goes cloudy.

When it clears, he sees a figure standing in the lot in front of his truck. Bin picks up the final package and slips out, walking towards the figure. It turns out to be a slim man with dark, heavy eyebrows; at his side sits an enormous husky. “Package for you, sir,” Bin says.

DO I HAVE TO SIGN FOR IT? asks the figure.

“No, sir,” Bin says, consulting the paperwork. “Not this one.” He hands it over.

The man opens it and pulls out a slim black mobile phone. STYLISH, he says, and powers it on. Once the screen is lit, he turns it around to show Bin; the map application is open, with a single pinned location. YOU’VE DONE WELL ENOUGH DELIVERING THESE, I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT WANT TO SEE THE END RESULT.

“Thanks,” Bin says, “but I don’t understand.”

YOU’RE NOT MEANT TO. The man gestures over Bin’s shoulder; Bin turns to see his body slumped in the driver’s seat of the truck. Bin turns back to the man. DON’T THINK OF IT AS DYING, the man says, not unkindly. THINK OF IT AS LEAVING EARLY TO AVOID THE RUSH.


	7. Atlantic Ocean, 1492

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s an inevitability, really, Viktor muses as he catches sight of Yuuri across the deck. A venture like this is bound to have caught the attention of both Heaven and Hell, prompting them to send their best agents. And the two of them are their best agents, so it’s only natural they should run into each other. He crosses the deck and raises a hand when Yuuri notices him.
> 
> “You too, huh?” Yuuri says, when Viktor has settled against the rails next to him. “I must say, it’s impressive. Phichit, a friend of mine, bet me they wouldn’t find the New World for another three hundred years.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Kathe, who crushed it on her chemistry exam today!

It’s an inevitability, really, Viktor muses as he catches sight of Yuuri across the deck. A venture like this is bound to have caught the attention of both Heaven and Hell, prompting them to send their best agents. And the two of them  _ are _ their best agents, so it’s only natural they should run into each other. He crosses the deck and raises a hand when Yuuri notices him.

“You too, huh?” Yuuri says, when Viktor has settled against the rails next to him. “I must say, it’s impressive. Phichit, a friend of mine, bet me they wouldn’t find the New World for another three hundred years.”

“It  _ is _ impressive,” Viktor agrees. “On the whole, I find humanity rather more impressive than not, most days. Present company excepted,” he adds in a low voice, watching a sailor next to them pick his nose and then spit on the deck.

“Oh, they’re not that bad,” Yuuri says. “Trust me, I should know.” He sighs and turns to face the water, shading his eyes. “I suppose you’re here to make sure they land safely?”

“And I suppose  _ you’re _ here to try and sink them,” Viktor shoots back. “It’s more complex than that and you know it. I merely try to influence their decision-making for the greater good, I don’t interfere directly.”

“Fair enough.” Yuuri blows air out of his cheeks. “How many times has this happened, though?” Viktor raises an eyebrow at him. “Both of us turning up in the same place, hard at work just to cancel each other out.” He drops his arm. “We might as well not even be here, it’ll come to the same thing, and we could be off other places, not on cramped little ships.”

Viktor considers this. “It does seem to be a pattern.”

Yuuri looks at him. Viktor can almost  _ see _ the demonic intent set to work behind his eyes. “So you agree that we might as well not even be here?” he asks. There are tendrils of seduction in his voice. They won’t work on Viktor, he can see through them too easily, but Viktor appreciates the effort.

“I suppose,” he allows. “If we’re just going to cancel each other out anyway.”

Yuuri sidles a little closer. “I’ve been thinking,” he says. “Our respective head offices don’t really care who does what, do they? All that matters is that the work gets done.” Viktor squints at him. “So,” Yuuri goes on, “it doesn’t really matter to anyone, really, which of us does the blessing and which the tempting. Or even, maybe, if one of us does both.”

Viktor frowns at him. “You’re suggesting we share the load.”

“No need for both of us to go everywhere, is there?” Yuuri asks. “If one of us just  _ happens _ to be somewhere where the other one has an assignment, well…” He must see Viktor’s hesitation, because he says quickly, “Just something for you to think about. For right now, though, I think we can agree this trip is a wash, yes?”

Viktor nods. “And what’s more, I can’t see how we can work unnoticed in quarters this small. We’ll be ferreted out soon enough.”

“Just so,” Yuuri says. “Then let’s get out of here. I still owe you lunch, don’t I?”

Viktor sighs. “Oh, very well.” He takes Yuuri’s arm. “There’s a new delicacy in Siberia I’ve been meaning to try.”

“Siberia it is,” Yuuri says, and with a blink, they’re off.


	8. Two Days Before the Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Viktor! Yuuri! Come look at this!” Yurio hollers from the living room. Viktor gets there in time to see Yuuri come rushing down the stairs.
> 
> “What is it, dear?” Viktor asks, looking around for blood or vomit or interesting bugs, the usual causes of Yurio shouting for them to come see. “What’s going on?”
> 
> Yurio points to the television. “Look at the news!”
> 
> On screen, an anchor is saying, “That’s right, all readings from the Chernobyl site are suddenly indicating that there’s no radiation at all. It’s as though the disaster never happened, according to the levels, although no one’s yet gone inside to see what it looks like.”

“Viktor! Yuuri! Come look at this!” Yurio hollers from the living room. Viktor gets there in time to see Yuuri come rushing down the stairs.

“What is it, dear?” Viktor asks, looking around for blood or vomit or interesting bugs, the usual causes of Yurio shouting for them to come see. “What’s going on?”

Yurio points to the television. “Look at the news!”

On screen, an anchor is saying, “That’s right, all readings from the Chernobyl site are suddenly indicating that there’s no radiation at all. It’s as though the disaster never happened, according to the levels, although no one’s yet gone inside to see what it looks like.”

“The polar ice caps are rebuilding themselves too,” Yurio says, excited. “They said before you came in, they’re rebuilding themselves at an in-cre-di-ble rate.”

Viktor looks at Yuuri over Yurio’s head. “That’s… definitely exciting,” Viktor says slowly.

“It’s great!” Yurio says, grinning. “Chernobyl and the ice caps are the worst evidence of what humanity’s done to itself, and they’re fixed now!”

“Where did you hear about this stuff anyway?” Yuuri asks from his perch on the stairs. “I’ve never heard you mention it before a few days ago.”

“Oh, the gang and I met the witch in the woods again,” Yurio says offhandedly. Viktor feels his eyebrows raise.

“That’s right,” Yuuri says slowly, “you did mention you met a witch.”

“Yeah, his name’s Leo and he has a friend named Guang Hong and they were doing witchcraft in the woods and we met them and they told us about Chernobyl and the ice caps.” Yurio turns the television off and flops down onto the couch. “They said they were hunting evil.”

Viktor rubs a hand over his face; on the stairs, Yuuri is doing the same. “Where does this witch live, did he say?” Viktor asks.

“He’s renting Jasmine Cottage.”

“Right,” Viktor says, and catches Yuuri’s eye. “I think it’s time we went to meet your new friends.”

——

Outside the Ozone Cafe in Cape Wrath, Scotland, two figures climb off two motorcycles and go inside. One of them sweeps their helmet off to reveal a fall of glistening black hair; the other, shorter hair of the same color, and a permanently furrowed brow. “You sit down, Sara, and I’ll get us something to drink.”

“I can get my own drink,” Sara says.  _ “You _ sit down.” She makes her way over to the counter. Frowning, the other figure finds an empty booth and slides in. “Four teas,” Sara says to the woman behind the register, “and a cheese sandwich.”

“Out of cheese sandwiches,” the woman says. “Out of all food, actually, strangest thing, soon as you two walked in. But I can do four teas easily enough. You sit down and I’ll bring them over to you.”

Before Sara can make it over to the booth, the door opens again to reveal another figure clad in riding leathers. “Sara!” he booms, walking over to her. “Where’s Mickey?” She points to the booth; Emil changes direction mid-stride and slides in beside Mickey. “Good to see you both again,” he says, slinging an arm around Mickey’s shoulder. “It’s been too long.”

“It’s been just long enough.” Sara sits down opposite them.

“I wanted to sit next to my sister,” Mickey says through gritted teeth.

Emil waves a hand. “You see her all the time. I haven’t seen you in centuries!” He squeezes Mickey tighter. There are straw wrappers and wadded up napkins on the table, where there had just been scrubbed wood and water stains a moment ago.

The server brings over a tray bearing four teas. She sets three of them down, one in front of each figure. “Fourth not here yet?” she asks, holding the final tea.

I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE, Seung-gil says from behind her, AND I WILL ALWAYS BE HERE. THERE WILL NEVER BE A YOU WITHOUT ME. The server sets the tea down at the empty space and flees back behind the counter. Seung-gil slips in next to Sara and sets his teacup on the ground for the husky to drink from. WELCOME, ALL.

“Greetings, Lord,” Mickey says, giving a little bow over the table. Seung-gil’s face is covered by his hood, but his body language indicates a weird look back at him. “We are all gathered for the promised day.”

“Do dogs drink tea?” Emil asks, bending down to look. “I’ve never seen a dog drink tea before.”

THIS ONE DOES.

“How far away is it?” Sara asks, looking at Seung-gil. “The Place, I mean.”

ROUGHLY SIX HUNDRED THIRTY MILES. 

“Is that it? I mean, I knew it couldn’t be too far, since it’s somewhere on this island, but that seems remarkably short.”

“It’s not the traveling,” Emil says. “It’s the arriving that matters.”

THE GEOGRAPHY IS IMMATERIAL. WE GET IN, WE DO THE JOB, WE GET OUT.

“That’s when the real fun begins,” Sara says, grinning. Her grin seems slightly wider than a normal, human grin ought to be, with perhaps a few too many teeth. No one notices.

“Right!” Emil says, rubbing his hands together. “Shall we get this show on the road?” He drains his tea, Sara following suit. Mickey takes a discreet sip and puts the still-mostly-full cup back on the table. “Lead the way, Seung-gil.”

Seung-gil leads the way.

——

Chris knocks on the Witchfinder Army’s door at precisely thirteen minutes past one p.m. “Georgi?” he calls through the door. “You’re late, so I came to check on you.”

“I have better things to do than worry about the timing of your irresponsible luncheon!” Georgi snaps back, his voice muffled through the wood.

Chris gives up and opens the door. “Well, that’s as may be, but you’re rarely late, and I got worried. What’s going on?”

Georgi is leaning on a table, staring at a large map that’s been pinned to the wall. “None of your concern.”

“Oh, that’s interesting. Never see maps like that these days,” Chris comments, coming closer.

“It’s an antique. Belonged to Witchfinder Major Dalrymple, may his soul rest in eternal slumber.”

“Why eternal slumber?”

Georgi shudders. “Better that than he wakes up and comes back. What are you doing in my headquarters?”

Chris folds his arms and tuts. “As I said, you were late to lunch, and I got worried. What’s on your mind?”

With a heavy sigh, Georgi gives in to the inexorable weight of Chris’ curiosity. “It’s Witchfinder Private Ji,” he admits, still staring at the map. “I sent him off two days ago, and he’s not reported back in all that time.”

“Not Guang Hong?” Chris puts a hand to his heart. “Such a sweet one. I hope nothing’s happened to him.”

“He’s likely going through unimaginable torment at the hands of the worst witches and demons Hell has to offer,” Georgi mutters. “And it’s all my fault.”

“Now, none of that.” Chris puts a hand on Georgi’s shoulder. “He’s a bright, resourceful young man, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Give him another day to report back in. If he’s not called you by this time tomorrow, we’ll go looking for him, how’s that? Where did you send him?”

“Little place called Tadfield,” Georgi says, pointing at one of the pins in the map. “And there’s no call for you to get involved.”

“Well, he’s a right sight nicer to me than you are, and I still get involved with you,” Chris says. “Now come on. There’s no point in you standing here worrying and starving yourself to death, and the pork will get cold. Come along, now.” Using the hand still on Georgi’s shoulder, he steers him towards the door.

——

Leo is leading the way back to Jasmine Cottage, and giving serious thought to the possibility of reaching out to hold Guang Hong’s hand as they walk, when he hears Yuri’s unmistakable voice. “He’s probably off doing witchcraft in the woods, I  _ told  _ you. It’s what he’s always doing.”

“Well, we’ll just wait here until he gets back,” another, older voice says. Leo gives up on Guang Hong’s hand and focuses his eyes as they come around the corner, instinctively reading the auras of the three people standing in front of his house.  _ Interesting. _ The two men’s auras are unlike any he’s ever seen before, one pure silver and the other a deep, fiery burgundy, and Yuri —

Yuri doesn’t seem to have an aura at all. How had Leo not noticed before now?

“Can I help you?” he calls out, leading Guang Hong down the path. “I’m renting this house, are you looking for me?”

The man in the neat suit, Silver, perks up and holds out a hand. “Hi there! We just wanted to introduce ourselves. I’m Viktor, and this is Yuuri,” he says, indicating Burgundy. “We’re Yurio’s guardians, and when he told us he’d made a new friend, we wanted to come over and get to know you a little bit. I’m sure you understand?” he adds, a little bit of steel underneath the words.

“Of course,” Leo says, sizing them up. He turns to Guang Hong. “Listen, why don’t you take the equipment inside? Take Yuri and see if there’s any of that blueberry cake from the diner left over.”

“Um, okay,” Guang Hong says, and he and Yuri head off inside.

Leo turns back to Viktor and Yuuri. “Does Yuri know?” They look at him, clearly baffled. “What you are,” he goes on. “I can read auras, you know.”

“Ah,” Viktor says. “A real witch, then.” He and Yuuri exchange a glance.

“No, he doesn’t,” Yuuri says after a few seconds, pulling his eyes away to turn back to Leo. “And we’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“I understand.” Leo bites his lip, but he has to ask, “Do you know what’s going on with Yuri’s aura?”

“Why, what’s wrong with it?” Yuuri snaps, suddenly defensive.

Before Leo can explain, the door to the cottage opens again and Guang Hong and Yuri come out, the latter clutching a chunk of cake in a napkin. “Say thank you,” Viktor says, watching them approach.

“I was getting to it, god,” Yuri mutters. “Thank you,” he says, louder.

“You’re very welcome,” Leo says. “And while it was nice meeting you both, we do have work to be getting on with.”

“Of course,” Viktor says. “Yuri, come on.”

“Can’t I stay? I want to see more witchcraft.”

“Not today, dear.” Viktor holds out a hand, beckoning Yuri to follow him. “Leo, it was nice meeting you, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the days to come.”

“We certainly will.” Leo waits until they’re out of sight around the corner before heading into the house with Guang Hong. “Could you feel it?” he asks, once the door is closed.

“Feel what?”

“They weren’t human.”

Guang Hong’s eyes bug out. “What? None of them?”

Leo shakes his head. “Yuri’s human, as far as I can tell, but the other two… Angel and a demon, at my best guess, from their auras.”

_ “Wow. _ Did Agnes warn you about them?”

Leo opens his bag and, with a bit of effort, digs out the Rolodex. He flips through it, frowning. “There’s something in one of them about spectral forces joining sides, I think, but she didn’t get specific.”

“You’d think if they were living near the Antichrist, that’d be worth getting specific about,” Guang Hong says reasonably, moving forward to look at the card.

Leo snaps the Rolodex shut, a little nettled. “Agnes has never led me wrong this far, or anyone in my family. If she didn’t get specific, it wasn’t worth getting specific about.”

Guang Hong puts up his hands, taking a step back. “You know best, of course. I didn’t mean to offend.”

Sighing, Leo relaxes. “No, you were fine. Sorry for biting your head off.” He sets the Rolodex on the counter. “Want to hit the diner for dinner?”

“My treat,” Guang Hong says, and races out the front door before Leo can argue.


	9. Paris, 1849

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And just look at the architecture!” Viktor says, waving a hand up at where the dome is being constructed above their heads. Yuuri looks, carefully shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Really, the craftsmanship is divine.”
> 
> “Sure is,” Yuuri says, shifting his weight back. Viktor, thankfully, doesn’t notice.

“And just _ look _at the architecture!” Viktor says, waving a hand up at where the dome is being constructed above their heads. Yuuri looks, carefully shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Really, the craftsmanship is divine.”

“Sure is,” Yuuri says, shifting his weight back. Viktor, thankfully, doesn’t notice.

“What’s your favorite part?” he asks, finally looking at Yuuri. His eyes are bright and sparkling. “Mine’s the stained glass, I think, it’s just _ exquisite._”

“Um,” Yuuri says. He sets his hands on a pew behind him and leans back, rocking up onto his toes. “The sheer bloody-mindedness, I think. The whole thing was a wreck, but rather than let it be, they said no, let’s rebuild at great expense.”

“It’s wonderful,” Viktor says, and turns away again. “Oh look, there’s the master carpenter.” He runs off to meet him. Yuuri sinks down into the pew, crossing his legs on the one in front of him to give his burning feet some relief. He leans back to look up.

It _ is _ remarkable, is the thing. Notre Dame Cathedral was beautiful enough before, but it’s clear already that the remodel is going to make it even more so. The destruction hadn’t been Yuuri’s doing, but he almost wished he could take credit, if only so he could have some claim in the beauty of its reconstruction. Beauty isn’t really one of Hell’s priorities, but Yuuri’s always had an appreciation for it, and who really cares what Home Office thinks anyway. _ They’re _ not up here, living cheek to jowl with humanity’s best and worst.

Viktor comes back after a while, scowling at Yuuri’s legs up on the furniture. “Can’t you show a little respect?” he asks waspishly. “I know you’re, well, _ a demon,_” he whispers, “but there’s such a thing as appropriate behavior for the location.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes but, reluctantly, swings his legs down. He can’t quite suppress a wince as his battered feet make contact with the consecrated ground. Viktor’s eyes widen. Damn. “Oh, _ Yuuri,_” Viktor cries, hands starting to flutter at his sides. “Oh, I forgot, why didn’t you say?”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri tries, taking a step. A hiss escapes from between his clenched teeth.

“Oh, this won’t do, we’re halfway down the aisle,” Viktor says wretchedly. “Here, hold on.” He puts one arm around Yuuri’s shoulder and bends to tuck the other under Yuuri’s knees; with a heave, Yuuri is swept into his arms. Viktor carries him back down the aisle and sets him down a good fifty paces from the cathedral’s front door. “I’m so sorry, Yuuri! I completely forgot the ground would still be consecrated.”

“It’s alright,” Yuuri says. His feet are a little sore, but they’ll hold him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well, you were so excited,” Yuuri says. “And it _ is _ beautiful.”

Viktor tuts at him. “Poor thing. Can I give you a foot massage back at mine?”

Yuuri grimaces. “I think it’s best to just leave the feet alone, for a while. They’ll recover.”

“Fair enough.” Viktor regards him. “Do come back to mine, though. I’ve got a top-notch bottle of wine I’ve been saving for a good occasion, and I can’t think of a better occasion than an apology to an old friend. Let me tempt you - oh,” he catches himself with a grin. “But that’s your area, isn’t it?”

Yuuri grins. “Oh, go on then. I’ll drink your wine.” They set off down the road together.


	10. One Day Before the Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever the Horsemen are formed from, their bikes are still manmade, and they have to stop for fuel. In a gas station on the outskirts of London, Sara sidles over to Emil while their tanks are filling. “Is it just me,” she murmurs, just for his ears, “or is this trip taking longer than it should?”
> 
> “It’s not just you,” he agrees. “I’ve spent a fair bit of time on this island over the centuries, and it shouldn’t take as long as we’ve been driving to get from one tip to the other, let alone from one tip to Oxfordshire. We’ve been driving all night.”

Whatever the Horsemen are formed from, their bikes are still manmade, and they have to stop for fuel. In a gas station on the outskirts of London, Sara sidles over to Emil while their tanks are filling. “Is it just me,” she murmurs, just for his ears, “or is this trip taking longer than it should?”

“It’s not just you,” he agrees. “I’ve spent a fair bit of time on this island over the centuries, and it shouldn’t take as long as we’ve been driving to get from one tip to the other, let alone from one tip to Oxfordshire. We’ve been driving all night.”

FOR THE LAST TIME, comes Seung-gil’s voice booming over their shoulders, even though he was three pumps away when they started talking. THE GEOGRAPHY IS IMMATERIAL. THE JOURNEY TAKES AS LONG AS IT TAKES. WE WILL ARRIVE AT THE CORRECT TIME. THAT IS ALL THAT MATTERS.

“Of course, Lord,” Emil says, bowing slightly. “It’s just always interesting, when the realities of the world bend around you.”

“The realities of the world bend around you all the time,” Mickey says, walking over to the group. His bike continues filling itself. They all do. No one comes out to tell them to mind the pumps. “You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

“I have a natural sense of wonder,” Emil says brightly, slinging an arm across Mickey’s shoulders. “I can’t complain, anyway. It means we get to spend more time together!” He ruffles Mickey’s hair. Mickey looks nauseated.

“I’ll go in and pay,” Sara says. Mickey moves to duck out from under Emil’s arm and follow her. “Stay here, Mickey,” she says firmly. “I want a bag of chips while I’m in there.” Mickey frowns but stays put.

The bikes are finished filling, and there is a line forming, but the three Horsemen remain clustered around Emil’s bike, and no one comes out to move them. “Really, though,” Emil says, after a few minutes of silence as they wait for Sara. “Is it like you expected? Armageddon, I mean. Does it seem… right, to you?”

“I pictured somewhere a little more dramatic, aesthetically,” Mickey admits. “South Africa, maybe, or the tundras of Antarctica. Not Oxfordshire.”

“Right?” Emil nods. “And not that I don’t love the bikes, but I was expecting an actual horse.”

I WOULDN’T THINK YOU’D COMPLAIN ABOUT THAT. MORE SMOKE PUMPING INTO THE AIR, AND ALL THAT.

“Not complaining,” Emil says quickly. “Definitely not complaining. Never could get the hang of horses. Too organic.”

Sara steps out of the convenience store and rips a bag of chips open with her teeth. Pouring half of it into her mouth in one go, she saunters across the parking lot, in front of the line of cars waiting for the pumps. One starts to honk at her, then two, then five, and as she folds the top of the bag over, one car in the back starts to ram into the one in front of it, starting a cascade of collisions that sends the front car careening five feet forward. 

“Let’s go, boys,” she calls, swinging a leg over her bike. Mickey and Emil dart for their own motorcycles. (Seung-gil has never left his.) With four pitch-perfect engine roars, they peel out of the parking lot and head back for the main highway.

——

Yuri sends his remote-control car slamming into the row of army figurines, then sighs and throws the remote onto the bed.

It’s _ boring, _ is the trouble. It’s all boring. He’s been playing with these toys for years, years and years and _ years, _ and he already knows all the best games to play. He knows the remote-controlled car gets a little wonky when you try and turn it left at full speed, and that his GI Joe only stands upright if he turns one foot almost the whole way around, and that his model airplanes can go ten meters when thrown from the top of a hill on a windy day. He’s _ bored. _

He kicks idly at one of the figurines and sighs again. Maybe he’ll go see Beka and Mila and Kenjirou. It’s hard, coming up with games for them all to play, and it always falls to him to do it, but on his less creative days they’re always game to go frog-hunting in the stream. Frogs are interesting, at least, and nice and slimy. He slithers off his bed and goes out the door and up the stairs.

He makes it all the way up the stairs, avoiding the creaky one five steps up, and is poised with his hand in a fist an inch from Viktor’s door when he hears the words coming from behind it.

“… do the right thing, taking him in?” Yuuri asks. “I mean, has it actually done any good?”

“We did what we had to,” he can hear Viktor respond. “There was no other choice. If there was another choice, of course we’d have taken it, but there was _ no other choice. _”

“There’s always a choice,” Yuuri says; Yuri can practically hear the disgusted look that must be on his face. “Isn’t that what you’re always on about? Choices, and free will, and all that sappy shit?”

“For people,” Viktor says. “Not for us. We were backed into a corner.”

There’s a long pause. Then Yuuri says, hesitantly, “It’s just - he’s such a good kid, sometimes? So good with his friends. It makes you forget —”

“Forget what?” Viktor says sharply. “That he’s the Antichrist? Maybe you can forget, Yuuri, but I never can. It’s like a needle in the side of my head, all the time.”

Yuri’s heard enough. Silently, he takes two steps back from the door and makes for the stairs again.

He packs a bag almost in a daze, shoes, underwear, books, the Swiss army knife Yuuri had given him for his eighth birthday (over Viktor’s strenuous objections). _ The Antichrist, _ is he? _ Did what they had to do taking him in, _ did they? Yuri will show them. He doesn’t need them. He doesn’t need _ anybody. _

Yuri puts on his most trusted pair of trainers and leaves the house as silently as he had gone down the stairs, Potya twining around his heels as he walks. He stops once he’s down the path and turns to look at the house; it’s likely the last time he’ll ever see it again. He loves this house, loves this whole town, and the fact that he can’t stay there forever is another nail in the injustice coffin Viktor and Yuuri have built for him. He scowls and turns.

Otabek’s house is a fifteen-minute walk away, ten if he runs. He makes it in seven. The house is notable for the huge tree that grew up right outside Otabek’s window; Yuri and Potya scramble up it and shimmy down the bough. Thankfully, Otabek is there, and alone; he opens the window at Yuri’s knock and lets them in. “What are you doing here?” Otabek asks. “We don’t usually play on Fridays.”

Yuri drops his bag by the wall and goes to sit on Otabek’s bed, pulling his knees up to his chin. “Otabek, am I a bad kid?” he asks, after a few seconds of silence.

Otabek comes and sits next to him. “Of course you’re not a bad kid. You’re the _ best _ kid. You’re my best friend.”

To Yuri’s horror, there are tears in his eyes. “You don’t… You don’t think I’m the Antichrist?”

“Who said that?” Otabek says immediately. “I’ll get Mila and Kenjirou and we’ll go and set them straight.”

Yuri huffs a laugh. “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“They’re grown-ups.”

That silences Otabek for a bit, but not forever. “We can sort out grown-ups. Especially grown-ups who say stuff like that. No one should ever say anything like that to you.”

Yuri angrily wipes at his eyes. “They didn’t say it to _ me, _ they said it to each other and I overheard.”

“Oh.” Otabek frowns in thought. “Then maybe there was a misunderstanding? Maybe they weren’t talking about you. Who was it?”

“Viktor and Yuuri,” Yuri admits. Saying it is harder than he anticipated. “Viktor said I was like a needle in his head, all the time.”

Otabek sighs, and to Yuri’s shock, he reaches out an arm and wraps it around Yuri’s shoulder. Otabek has _ never _touched him, outside of tussling. Something uncurls around Yuri’s heart and he starts to sob, letting Otabek pull him closer in to his chest.

——

Georgi fully intends to go to Tadfield on his own, but Chris, the wily little minx, is standing outside his door when he opens it with a travel mug of tea and a bag of what appear to be sandwiches. “No word from Guang Hong?” Chris asks. Georgi shakes his head, giving in to the inevitable. “Right then. You take this,” he says, handing the travel mug to Georgi. “I’ve already had two espressos, so I’m full up on caffeine. I’ve got a car. Let’s go.”

Chris flatly refuses to let Georgi drive, so Georgi folds himself into the passenger seat with ill grace and a paper map of Oxfordshire. They sit in uncomfortable silence all the way out of London, until they’re speeding down a suburban highway and Chris asks, “Can I ask you kind of a personal question?”

“Can I stop you?” Georgi mutters.

Chris ignores this. “Why do you hate witches so much?”

Georgi gapes at him. No one has ever asked him that before. “Well, they’re… they’re witches! They’re evil!”

“Lots of things are evil,” Chris says reasonably. “Racism’s evil, capitalism’s evil, but you’re not fighting against them. You’re fighting against witches. And I guess I was just wondering, why them?”

Georgi takes a swallow of tea to avoid the question. Damn it all, it’s _ delicious. _ Chris has even put enough sugar in for Georgi’s taste, and _ no one _ ever puts enough sugar in for Georgi’s taste. “My ex-girlfriend,” he admits quietly. “She got involved in witchcraft. It’s why she left me, she wouldn’t listen to me that it was no good and she chose it over me.”

When he looks over, Chris is making a sympathetic face. “That’s hard,” Chris says, not looking at him. Georgi is absurdly grateful for that. “So you decided all witches are evil?”

“They _are,_” Georgi insists. “You didn’t see the kind of stuff she was getting into, boiling frogs and unprotected orgies and blood magic. It’s _dangerous._”

“Okay, I’ll admit that none of that sounds particularly good or safe. But what about stuff like Wicca, that’s about energy and the earth? Is that evil?”

Georgi has spent more time than he’d like to admit pondering that very same question. “It’s borderline, at the very least. Best to stay away from all of it. Best none of it exists to tempt people.”

“Ah, but tempting people’s fun.” Chris does look over at him at that, with a wide, impish grin. “I don’t know,” he goes on. “Maybe it is all evil, but I doubt it. Either way, I admire your tenacity if nothing else.”

Georgi shifts in his chair. “You admire me?”

Chris looks at him oddly. “Of course I do. You think I’d put up with how you treat me if I didn’t think there was something admirable underneath the nastiness?”

That stings. Georgi lets a few minutes pass, mulling it over. “Sorry,” he mumbles eventually. “For the nastiness. It’s a habit, a bad one. I’ll try and do better. And thank you for the ride.”

Chris reaches over and pats his knee. “I appreciate that. And of course. It’s my pleasure.”

They pass the rest of the trip in silence.

——

“Okay. Thank you. Call if you see him?” Viktor hangs up the phone and turns to Yuuri, who’s on his mobile. “No luck at Mila’s.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri says into his mobile. “Of course. Thanks.” He snaps the phone closed. “Otabek’s mom says he’s alone in his room, and Kenjirou’s parents say the same thing. Where could he have gotten to?”

“Let’s not panic.”

Yuuri laughs, slightly hysterical. “Let’s not panic? We’re on a countdown clock to the end of the world and the Antichrist has gone missing, and you tell me _ not to panic?_”

Viktor steps forward and puts his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “I’m not saying panic isn’t called for. I’m saying it won’t help right now. If he didn’t go to his friends, where could he have gone?”

Yuuri takes a deep breath, holds it for four seconds, and lets it out slowly. “The only thing I can think of is maybe he went to the studio? He’s always liked it there, and we haven’t taken him in a while.”

“Okay,” Viktor says, giving Yuuri’s shoulders a squeeze. “Why don’t you go to the studio and look, and I’ll stay here? I’ll swing by Jasmine Cottage and see if Leo has seen him, and then I’ll come back here and wait and see if he shows up.”

“Okay,” Yuuri repeats. He lifts his hands to cover Viktor’s on his shoulders, and then drops them like he’s been burned. “Okay. Plan. I’ll get going.”

Viktor manages a smile for him, and gets a sort of grimace in return, and then Yuuri’s gone, the Bentley roaring down the gravel road. Viktor sets a quick warding on the house to alert him _ instantly _ if Yuri returns, and sets off running to Jasmine Cottage.

“No, I haven’t seen him,” Leo says, when he answers the door to Viktor’s frantic knocking. “He hasn’t been by here, I’m sorry. Guang Hong, have you seen Yuri?” The man who’d given Yuri that delectable blueberry cake the other day shakes his head, standing just behind Leo’s shoulder. Leo turns back to Viktor. “We’ll call you if we see him.”

“Thank you,” Viktor says, and then there’s nothing to do but return home and wait.

Wait. Maybe that’s not the case.

When they bought the house, before they’d moved the furniture in, Viktor had inscribed a full heavenly portal circle under where the living room rug would go. “Just in case,” he’d told a skeptical Yuuri, and then proceeded to forget about it over the years, remembering only when a corner of the rug got kicked up by Yuri’s… _ enthusiastic _ play pursuits. Viktor drags the coffee table out of the way, rolls up the rug, and fetches some votive candles from the kitchen.

Pressing his hands together, he shuts his eyes. “Hello. Viktor here. I need to speak to Yakov. It’s important, I’m afraid.”

There’s a horrible pause where Viktor thinks it hasn’t worked, and then he hears the soft _ shhhhhh _ of the celestial gate opening, and opens his eyes to see Yakov’s huge face suspended in midair. “Yes, Vitya?” Yakov says. “What is it?”

——

The bell in Georgi’s lap suddenly slips off, landing by his feet with a clear and loud _ bbbbbbbring _ sound. “Pull over,” Georgi says. “It’s a sign. There’s something witchy at work here.”

“Here? There’s nothing here but a house. You think the people inside are witches just because you dropped your bell?” Chris asks, but pulls over into the house’s driveway nonetheless. They _ are _ in Tadfield, and perhaps whoever lives here will be able to give them directions. “Come on, then, but you’re doing all the talking.” Chris unbuckles his seatbelt.

They step out of the car and start walking towards the house, but before they can get to the front door, Georgi grabs his arm and pulls him to a halt. “Look,” he breathes, pointing at one of the windows.

Chris looks, blinks, and looks again. There’s a man standing in the living room, talking to what appears to be an enormous, shimmering disembodied head. “It’s a projector,” Chris says. “Something to do with mirrors.”

“It’s _ witchcraft,_” Georgi hisses, inching closer. “Listen.”

The man inside seems sufficiently distracted by the large head, so Chris feels little worry about pressing his ear to the glass. “We’ll look,” he hears a deep voice say, “but he’ll have shielding up to protect from ethereal eyes. Nonetheless, you’ve done well to come to us, Vitya.”

“And you’ll tell me, if you find anything?” the man asks, his voice sounding a little shaky through the window. “You won’t just… eliminate him?”

“You’re our field agent on Earth,” the head replies. “If anyone is eliminating him, it will be you.”

The man gives a tremulous little laugh. “Right. An honor.”

Georgi pulls away. “I’ve heard enough. They’re talking about killing someone, we have to go in.”

Chris makes a grab for him but he’s already moving away. Chris hurries after him, catching up in time for Georgi to grasp the front door handle and give it a firm turn; the latch opens without a fuss. “Small towns,” Georgi says. “They never lock their doors.” Chris shakes his head at him, but Georgi pushes the door open and steps inside nonetheless.

The head is gone, but there’s a glowing circle on the floor, and the man is still standing at its edge. “Witchcraft!” Georgi bellows, pointing a finger at the man.

It all happens quite quickly. The man startles, spinning around at their intrusion, and when Georgi points at him, he takes a step back. A small step, but enough to bring him inside the glowing circle. “Oh, fuck,” the man says, and then there’s an enormous flash of light, a great cracking sound, and his body seems to explode.

“Oh god,” Georgi breathes, staring at his hand. “Oh god, what have I done.”

Chris pushes past him into the room. There are still lit candles around the circle, and the only thing Chris can think of is to blow them out. The last one snuffed, he turns to look at Georgi, who has sunk to his knees. “Are you all right?” Chris asks, crawling towards him.

“Witchcraft,” Georgi mutters, still staring at his finger. “I killed him, Chris, I did it with magic. I’m a witch.” His breath catches, and he looks up at Chris with eyes that are beginning to tear up. “Do you understand, Chris? _ I’m a witch. _ I have to be killed.”

“No one’s going to be killed,” Chris says firmly. He reaches out and pulls Georgi into his chest. Georgi’s breath gets more hiccup-y and irregular. “Something happened, and we’re not sure what, but we’ll figure it out. You’re not a witch, love. There we go, let it out,” he adds, rubbing Georgi’s back as he begins to cry in earnest.

——

“I’m running away,” Yuri says, once he’s stopped crying. “If it’s so terrible to have me around, then I won’t be around anymore. That’s that.”

Otabek frowns. “Where will you go?”

“I dunno. Maybe I’ll join the military.” Yuri stands up and starts pacing. “There’s a military base not far from here, I’ll go there.”

“You’re too young to join the military,” Otabek says, watching him go round and round the room.

Yuri waves this off. “They’ll take me, I’ll make them.” He doesn’t think too hard about what _ making them _ might entail; for some reason, all he knows is that he would be able to do it, if he wanted to. “Will you come with me?”

“I can’t just run away from home,” Otabek says slowly. “Not for forever. And I don’t think you should go to the air base. They have guns there, they might shoot on sight before they realize you’re just a kid.”

“They won’t.” Yuri stops pacing, coming to stand in the middle of the room facing Otabek, who’s still on the bed. “You’re coming with me,” he announces. “Stand up and start packing a bag.”

Something in the back of Yuri’s head gives a pleased little purr, and Otabek jerkily stands up. “No,” Otabek says, eyes widening, and as though against his will, he moves like a robot over to his closet, grabs his backpack, and starts stuffing it full of clothes. “No, Yuri, I don’t want to go with you!” he shouts, but he keeps moving nonetheless.

_ Make them all come, _ the voice in Yuri’s head whispers, and he closes his eyes. But it isn’t like closing his eyes at all; he can still see Otabek’s room, but it’s like there’s a weird filter over everything. There’s a thick blue string connecting him to Otabek, and a million million other strings running out from his body. Yuri picks up a red one the same thickness as Otabek’s, and in his mind he can see Mila, drowsing on the bench in her family’s garden. With a twitch, he sends her running to pack her own bag. Picking up the green thread next to the red one, he sets Kenjirou to the same task and opens his eyes. Otabek’s bag is packed, and he’s looking at Yuri with fear, which has never happened before. Yuri shoves down the feelings that brings up in his stomach, picks up his bag and Potya, and says, “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Otabek asks, stiffly following him out of the room.

“We’ll go to the air base. There are military people there, they’ll let me join.”

Otabek doesn’t respond.

——

Guang Hong tastes the meat sauce on the spoon Leo is proffering him. “Tastes nice,” Guang Hong says. “Could use a dash more ginger, maybe?”

Leo grins. “Now there’s an idea.”

While Leo sprinkles a hefty amount of ginger into the sauce, Guang Hong wanders over to where the prophecy Rolodex is sitting on the table and starts to flip through it. “Looking for anything in particular?” Leo asks, turning the heat off on the stove.

“I thought Agnes might have a clue where Yuri got to,” Guang Hong says. “Boy goes missing the day before the Apocalypse is set to start, I thought she might have something.”

Leo shakes his head. “She won’t. She only prophesied about her direct family members, descendants and spouses and suchlike. She won’t have anything on a random boy.”

Guang Hong sighs and shuts the Rolodex. “I’m worried about him.”

Leo starts dishing up two bowls of rice to pour their sauce over. “Me too. But then, I’m worried about all of us.” He passes a bowl over to Guang Hong.

“Are you?” Guang Hong digs in. “I thought you’d be all confident, given that your role has already been set down.”

“Yeah, but I still have to figure out what it is. I still have to make the decisions, Agnes just knew which ones I’d make.”

The food is delicious, but Guang Hong can’t focus on eating it. Prophecies and missing kids and the end of the world, and apparently he’s destined to help try and avert it. The way the light catches on Leo’s hair and runs down the slope of his nose isn’t helping either.

Once they’ve eaten and washed up, Leo leads him up to his bedroom, where the actual book is open on the floor, maps and charts spread out around it. They’ve been trying to piece together the ley lines Leo has mapped, searching for the Antichrist. They haven’t gotten far, but Guang Hong lies down and gets back to it anyway. There’s nothing else to do.

A few minutes in, Leo and Guang Hong both reach for the same map at the same time, and their hands brush over the paper. Leo’s eyes rocket up to meet Guang Hong’s, and Guang Hong has never seen that look in someone else’s eyes but he knows what it means. It’s a surprisingly easy thing to lean over and fit his mouth to Leo’s; Leo’s fingers intertwine with Guang Hong’s, and his other hand comes up to nestle along his face.

Some minutes of increasingly heated snogging later, Leo tugs Guang Hong on top of him and grins. “I have to say,” he murmurs, running a finger down Guang Hong’s face, “I was kind of dreading this part, until I saw you in your car the other day.”

Guang Hong grins back and kisses him again, and then what Leo said pierces through the endorphins running through his brain and he leans back. “Wait. Dreading this? You mean…” He looks at the book on the ground. “You mean Agnes predicted… this?”

Leo nods. Guang Hong scrambles off him and shoots backward along the floor until his back hits a wall. Leo sits up, no longer smiling. “What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning forward.

Guang Hong shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t — I didn’t know she would see — I can’t,” he stammers. “Not if you’re just doing it because she told you to.”

“Guang Hong, that’s not it at all.” Leo scoots a little closer across the floor and puts one hand out, like Guang Hong is a spooked animal. “I haven’t explained this clearly, I guess. She doesn’t tell us what to do.”

Guang Hong gives a little laugh. “Seems like she tells you what to do.”

Leo shakes his head. “No. She just tells us what she sees us _ choose _ to do. It’s like a synopsis of a film, really. She just put down what she saw. _ We, _ the descendants, make all the choices.”

Guang Hong stares at him. “So when you say you were dreading it…”

“Bad choice of words. Who wants to think about their great-great-whatever-grandmother seeing them hook up?” Leo shudders. “But I don’t want to sleep with you because she predicted it. She predicted it because I want to.”

Guang Hong thinks about this for a moment. “Right,” he says. He gets his feet under him and launches himself at Leo.

Afterwards, Guang Hong lifts his head from where it’s pillowed on Leo’s shoulder and squints at the book still spread out next to them on the floor. “I’ve had a thought,” he says, and shuffles over to get a hand on the book. Carefully turning the pages, he flips until he finds the prophecy he’s looking for. “I saw this one in the Rolodex while I was looking for hints about Yuri. _ Where the iron bird flies no more, _ look.” He taps at the page until Leo grumbles and leans up to look. “That’s an airplane, that is. Didn’t you say there was an air base around here somewhere?”

“Just outside of town,” Leo breathes. “They don’t land planes there anymore, it’s just a communications hub now. Guang Hong, that’s genius!” He tugs Guang Hong back over for a kiss. They lose a few more minutes. “We’ll sneak over tonight,” he says, lips red and bitten. “After midnight. See if we can’t make it inside.”

“That’s…” Guang Hong cranes his neck until he can see the clock on the wall. “Four hours from now.”

“How will we pass the time,” Leo says, and kisses him again.

——

“Hi, this is Viktor! I’ve missed your call, terribly sorry, please leave a message!” Viktor’s voicemail chirps for the thirteenth time in Yuuri’s ear.

He lets the phone drop to the floor of the studio and follows suit a second after. His snakelike eyes mean he can’t cry, but he can shake. And he does, right there on the floor of his studio, hands clapped to his head, shaking in panic.

His phone rings; he picks it up blindly, presses it to his ear. “Yurio? Viktor?”

“Nope,” Phichit says cheerily, “and I’m _ very _ curious to know why you think an angel would be contacting you. Just me, calling in for my report. How’s the Antichrist doing?”

Yuuri keens, one hand clapped to his mouth as he pitches forward, still holding his phone to his face. “Oh boy,” Phichit says. “Where are you? Are you in the studio? Stay put, I’m coming to you.”

Yuuri can hear the rumbling of a demon rising up through the floor, and then arms are wrapping around him, pulling him into a firm embrace. “Shhh,” Phichit croons in his ear. “Come on, now.”

Phichit has always given the best hugs, and within a minute Yuuri’s breathing evens out enough that he can sit up and pull his hand from his mouth. “Thanks,” he says shakily.

“Thank me by telling me what’s going on.”

Yuuri considers the situation. Honestly, he hasn’t got much to lose, except his life, and if he can’t find Yurio soon, that’s going to be gone anyway. And Phichit _ is _ a friend. “Okay,” he says, “but if you’re going to discorporate or eliminate me, do me a favor and do it quickly.”

Phichit’s face grows more concerned. “I can promise that much, at least. What have you gotten yourself into?”

Yuuri takes a deep breath. “Eleven years ago, I didn’t hand the Antichrist over to the American diplomat. I kept him. I’ve been raising him.” One of Phichit’s eyebrows raises. “With an angel.” Up goes the other eyebrow. “We’ve been trying to cancel each other out, trying to stop the Apocalypse from happening. But he’s run away and we can’t find him, and if we can’t find him, it’s all going to have been for nothing, and now Viktor’s not answering his phone —” His breathing is starting to pick up again, so he stops and looks at the ground.

Phichit is silent for the longest stretch Yuuri’s ever heard him be silent for. When he speaks, though, it’s not at all what Yuuri is expecting. “Oh, _ Yuuri,_” he cries, flinging his arms back around Yuuri. “You and your mortal enemy have been raising a child together? That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever _ heard, _ oh _ Yuuri._” He squeezes tightly and lets go; when Yuuri finally gets eyes back on his face, he’s beaming.

“That’s… not the reaction I expected you to have,” Yuuri says slowly.

“Oh, if anyone else finds out, you’re absolutely fucked,” Phichit says. “But I think it’s sweet. How can I help?”

“Can you track the Antichrist?” Yuuri asks. “I’ve been trying to track his phone but he must be blocking me somehow.”

“Unfortunately not,” Phichit says. “It’s built into his DNA, he’s protected from the likes of us. But I have another idea.” He stands up, extending a hand to Yuuri. “The Horsemen will be on the ride by now, I may be able to get in touch with one of them and find out where they’re going.”

Yuuri takes the hand, allowing Phichit to pull him up. “Okay. That would be something, at least. And Phichit,” he says, giving the hand he’s still holding a squeeze. “_Thank you._” Phichit beams back at him.

——

It’s full dark by the time Kenjirou finds the rest of the gang, even though Yuri’s been sending him clear directions ever since he left his house; his bike got a flat yesterday, and he’d had to walk the whole way. Mila’s bike is chained to a tree nearby, and they’re huddled under the tent her family used while camping in the Alps two years previously. Kenjirou ducks into the tent and sits down, tears streaming down his face.

“Stop crying,” Yuri snaps. “It’s not like you’re joining the army with me, you’re just here for moral support until they let me in. Just to see me off. You’ll be back home this time tomorrow, so _ stop crying._”

Kenjirou’s tears cease. He gazes at Yuri, eyes wide and frightened. Mila hasn’t stopped scowling since she arrived, and Otabek is more blank-faced than ever. This isn’t at all going how Yuri planned.

“We’ll camp out here tonight,” he says. “In the morning, soon as it’s light, we’ll head into the air base and I’ll make them let me join up. Then you lot can go home.”

“Our parents’ll come looking for us,” Mila says. “They’ll notice we’re not there tonight and track us.”

“They won’t,” Yuri says. He’s already taken care of that. “They think you’re in your beds tonight, and tomorrow they’ll think we’ve gone off to play in the woods like we always do.” Mila gives an ominous sniffle and goes back to staring at her knees. “Come on, guys!” Yuri says, irritated. “This is fun! We’re having _ fun._” He nudges Otabek, who just stares at him, dark eyes unblinking. “Ugh, when did you guys get so _ stupid? _ Just go to sleep. Just everybody go to sleep now, and you’ll see in the morning, it’ll be _ wicked._”

His three friends - former friends? - fall asleep where they sit, pitching sideways or slumping backwards. Otabek falls into Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri catches him and sets him down. He gets a folded-up jacket under everybody’s head and curls up to go to sleep himself, Potya crawling into his arms.


	11. London, 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor stops a few shops down the road and stares at himself in the window. Decent enough, he decides, fiddling with his hair as best he can with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other. Presentable, at least. He nods at his reflection and sets off again.
> 
> The door to the studio is locked, but that’s no deterrent to an angel, and Viktor slips inside. The lights in the reception area are off, but he can see a lamp glowing in an office deeper in. He moves down towards it and knocks on the doorframe. “Surprise!”

Viktor stops a few shops down the road and stares at himself in the window. Decent enough, he decides, fiddling with his hair as best he can with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other. Presentable, at least. He nods at his reflection and sets off again.

The door to the studio is locked, but that’s no deterrent to an angel, and Viktor slips inside. The lights in the reception area are off, but he can see a lamp glowing in an office deeper in. He moves down towards it and knocks on the doorframe. “Surprise!”

Yuuri looks up from the paperwork on his desk, face breaking out in a grin. “You’re here!” he says, standing up. “I thought you were in Belgium.”

“Nope!” Viktor says, shaking his head. He leans in a little closer. “I lied.”

“Careful,” Yuuri says, still smiling. “More my line of work than yours.”

“Worth it for the look on your face.” Viktor proffers the flowers and chocolate. “Congratulations on the opening of your studio, Yuuri, I know how long you’ve wanted it.”

Yuuri takes the bouquet and snaps his fingers; a vase appears next to him, an appropriate amount of water and plant food already inside. He deposits the stems, arranging the flower heads until they’re to his liking. “Thank you,” he says. “Come on, I’ll show you around.” Viktor sets the chocolates on his desk and follows him.

The studio is fairly modest, all things considered, but Yuuri shows it off like he had his Bentley fifty years ago, face shining with pride. Two dance rooms connected by a locker room, windows out to the reception area so people can watch if they like. “Will you have kids’ classes?” Viktor asks.

Yuuri shakes his head. “I’m thinking of renting them out to freelancers, you know? People who just need a proper space to practice. And not many,” he adds. “It’s not like I need the money.”

“It’s perfect,” Viktor says.

Yuuri opens the door to one of the dance rooms, toeing off his shoes. “Oh?” he asks, a playful twist to his voice. “And what would you know about it? Angels don’t dance, if I remember correctly.”

Viktor bends to untie his own shoelaces. “Just because angels  _ don’t _ dance doesn’t mean angels  _ can’t _ dance. I’m sure with the right teacher, I could be as light of foot as you yourself.” He follows Yuuri out into the room. The floor is slippery under his socks and he pulls them off, tossing them back towards their shoes.

“Challenge accepted,” Yuuri says, reaching out to take Viktor’s hands.


	12. The Day of the Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Got it,” Phichit says, striding out of the studio’s back rooms where he’s been making phone calls all night. “Emil finally picked up. They’re headed to Tadfield Air Base, apparently that’s where it’s all going to go down. Do you know where that is?”
> 
> Yuuri stands from where he’s been plié-ing in fourth position at the barre. “I know where it is, it’s not far from where we live.”
> 
> “Great!” Phichit says. “You drive, I never bothered learning how.”
> 
> Yuuri looks at him. “You mean you’re coming?”
> 
> “Are you kidding?” Phichit crosses to the door. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything. Now come on, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter featuring two delightful pieces of art by the AMAZING [KATHE](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts)!!!!!! Go shower her in love!!!!!

“Got it,” Phichit says, striding out of the studio’s back rooms where he’s been making phone calls all night. “Emil finally picked up. They’re headed to Tadfield Air Base, apparently that’s where it’s all going to go down. Do you know where that is?”

Yuuri stands from where he’s been plié-ing in fourth position at the barre. “I know where it is, it’s not far from where we live.”

“Great!” Phichit says. “You drive, I never bothered learning how.”

Yuuri looks at him. “You mean you’re coming?”

“Are you kidding?” Phichit crosses to the door. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything. Now come on, let’s go.”

——

The trees go right up to the front gate of the air base, which is convenient, because it means Leo and Guang Hong can hide while they look at the gate that is definitely not going to admit them anytime soon. They’ve been huddling in the trees for over five hours now; Guang Hong was in favor of going home and trying again after three, but Leo had just shaken his head. “It’s here,” he’d said, eyes fixed on the gate. “I can feel it.”

“Try and pull another card,” Guang Hong suggests, just as his phone tells him that 6 o’clock is chiming somewhere with a clock tower. “If we’ve got to get it right, and Agnes foresaw all this, whatever card you pull will have the answers.”

Leo reaches for the Rolodex, but before he can open it, the roar of engines reaches their ears, and four enormous motorcycles come riding into view. They approach the gate, and the one in front waves a lazy hand. The gate opens to let them in. “Go go go go go,” Leo hisses in his ear, but Guang Hong is already moving.

They make it through just before the gate slides shut behind them.

——

Time dilation is a very real danger when you’ve been discorporated, Viktor is rapidly discovering. It had taken him a number of hours just to piece together the scattered atoms of his consciousness; by the time he’s a thinking, feeling entity again, night has fallen on Earth. Thankfully no one had been in Heaven when he arrived, everybody probably off preparing for war, so it’s an easy enough thing to sneak back over to the Earth and filter himself down.

Aiming is another issue. Each ethereal step can potentially cover anything from miles to continents, so it’s a delicate dance to make it to England at all, let alone Tadfield. Without the limits of a human form, however, his angelic vision is in full effect, and it’s easy to find Yurio; his aura is pulsing like the waveform at a heavy metal concert, his little body in the center. He’s asleep; Viktor passes an ephemeral hand over his hair and goes to find a body.

His first thought is Yuuri; they’ve lived together for eleven years, surely sharing a corporeal form will be no problem. But he’s not in the studio anymore, and Viktor doesn’t have time to look for him on the roads, so he heads back to the house in Tadfield in hopes that Yuuri will have made it there by now.

But Yuuri hasn’t made it there by now, and there’s a stranger in Viktor’s bed. With a bit of concentrated effort, Viktor can pull up the memory from just before he discorporated, and he recognizes the stranger’s face from where it had been standing at the shoulder of the man who’d startled him into the circle.

Well, beggars can’t be choosers. Viktor focuses_ hard, _ and manages to manifest himself in his bedroom. “Wake up,” he says loudly. Rather abrupt, but given that it’s the Apocalypse he can probably be forgiven for that. “Wake up, whoever you are.”

The man in the bed blinks awake and sees Viktor’s shining form standing above him. “Oh, hello,” he says, rather stupidly. “You’re back. I hope you don’t mind I used your bed, but Georgi was in no condition to travel last night.”

“Good thing you did,” Viktor says. “Look, I haven’t got time to explain everything properly, but the world’s about to end, and I need to be there to stop it. Do you believe me?”

The man considers this. “Why not,” he says after a moment. “I’ve believed crazier things.”

“Great,” Viktor says brightly. “Then do you mind if I inhabit your corporeal shell alongside you? Only it’ll be much easier to do what I need to do with a physical body.”

“You’re asking to possess me?” the man asks. “I didn’t think people got asked first, I thought it just, well, _ happened. _”

“I’m not a demon,” Viktor says, rather offended. “I’m not just going to barge in on someone uninvited.”

“Fair enough.” The man lets his gaze rake up and down Viktor’s shimmering body, making him shift uncomfortably, and a wicked smile creeps across his face. “Darling, you can come inside me anytime,” he drawls. Viktor chooses to ignore this and slaps an ethereal hand on the man’s forehead.

Possession is a tricky business, and Viktor has never, strictly speaking, _ done _ it before. He was issued his old body in the Beginning, after all, and he’d kept rather good care of it until yesterday. Chris, for so Viktor discovers he is called, is willing to work with him, though, and eventually he gets settled in all the unused parts of Chris’ brain, and with a little bit of wiggling gets control of the nervous system. “Right,” he says, testing out the vocal cords. “Now, we must get to the air base, just as fast as possible.”

“Right,” echoes Chris. “But I rather think you’d better let me do the talking with Georgi.”

——

When Yuri wakes in the morning, several things have become clear to him.

The first is that he’s been a rotten friend. He shakes the shoulder nearest to him, and Otabek blinks awake. Yuri pokes at the other two, waking them as well, before saying, “I’m sorry.” Otabek gives a slow blink and stands up; the rest of them follow suit. “I wasn’t thinking clearly,” Yuri says. “It was all so overwhelming. But I am now, and I shouldn’t have made you all come with me. I’m sorry.”

“You know we’d have come with you anyway,” Otabek says. “You didn’t have to make us.”

Yuri hangs his head. “I know. I’m sorry. But it’s all done now, and you all can go home. You won’t be in any trouble with your parents.”

There’s a brief period of silence. Yuri looks up; over his head, Mila, Kenjirou, and Otabek have been exchanging glances. “Well, we’ve come this far,” Mila finally says. “And it would be a shame if you joined the military without any of your friends there with you.”

“Besides,” Kenjirou says, with an admirable attempt at brightness, “I’ve always wanted to see the inside of that place, and now I’ll get to! It’ll be wicked.”

Yuri surges forward, throwing an arm each around Kenjirou and Otabek and shoving his face into Mila’s shoulder. His friends gather around him, hugging him tightly. “Thank you,” he says, voice muffled in Mila’s shirt.

“Come on,” Mila says. “Let’s go in.”

——

Sara picks her way over the corpses of the soldiers strewn about the floor and settles herself at the nearest computer. She’s comfortable with death, and with Death. She has to be; she’s War, and War and Death go hand in hand. Not that she’d ever consider holding Seung-gil’s hand. She wouldn’t dare, to start, and he doesn’t seem the hand-holding type, besides.

Beside her, Mickey and Emil sit down at computers as well. They’d all learned the basics of coding in the nineties, just as something to do, but they don’t need it; this close to their destinies, their powers are manifested so strongly that the computers respond to the barest thought. With a grin, Sara sets every nuclear warhead on the planet to launch in ten minutes. Emil, at her left, is sending viruses dancing along every active internet connection (and forcing themselves into inactive ones); to her right, Mickey shuts down all the electricity, everywhere. There aren’t enough nukes in the world to cause global destruction, but the rioting will take care of the rest. Sara flips her hair over her shoulder and spins her chair around.

HE APPROACHES, Seung-gil says, from where he’s been pacing around the room. WE MUST GO AND MEET HIM.

“One sec,” Emil says, still squinting at his computer. He taps the keyboard a few more times. “There, done. Let’s go.” He stands and offers his arm to Sara. She takes it, and they sweep out after Seung-gil, leaving Mickey to follow at the base of their hellish diamond.

——

As soon as the four bikers — Bikers, Leo supposes, the size of their motorcycles and the swirling vortexes of their auras almost demand the capital letter — come back out of the building they had entered not five minutes ago, Leo and Guang Hong dart inside. Whatever they had done in there, Leo can hear alarms going off; it clearly needs to be _ un-_done, and quickly. Inside are banks and banks of computers; three of them are still lit up. “Oh god,” Leo says, sitting down in front of one. “I’m not much of one for computers but I think this means _ bad._” Guang Hong peers over his shoulder, then moves to the chair to his left and sits down. “What do we do?” Leo asks.

“What does Agnes say?”

Leo fumbles the Rolodex open and flips to a card at random. _ Leave it to Hym. _ “This is nothing,” Leo says, scowling at it. “This is just her reminding us to stay Catholic.”

Guang Hog pulls the Rolodex towards himself, reading the card. “No it isn’t,” he says, going pale. “It’s about me. Do you think if each of these computers stopped working, whatever they were doing would stop too?”

“Uh, probably?” Leo guesses. “Why?”

Guang Hong flexes his fingers. “I’m crap with computers. Everything I touch breaks.”

He and Leo lock eyes. “Get touching, then,” Leo says. Guang Hong turns to the keyboard.

——

Yuri leads his gang up to the front gate of the air base, Potya clutched firmly in his arms. “What is that?” he hears Kenjirou whisper behind him; he turns to see Kenjirou pointing into the control booth for the gate. There’s a body slumped there, vacant face pressed against the glass.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yuri says. “Nobody’s gonna kill you.”

With a twitch of a few fingers, Yuri has the gate sliding open in front of them, allowing them to pass through. He leaves it open behind them.

There are more bodies strewn around the grounds. Yuri keeps his eyes locked forwards, not looking at them as hard as he can; as they turn a corner, his rigid gaze falls on four figures standing in wait for them. “Do we have to fight them?” Mila hisses over Yuri’s shoulder, seeing them too.

“We might.” Not letting himself hesitate, Yuri strides forward until he’s just in front of the other gang’s leader, a tall grown-up in a dark robe. “Whatever you’ve started,” he says, looking straight into the darkness beneath the hood, “it has to stop, _ now. _”

OR WHAT, says Death.

Yuri clenches his jaw. “Or I’ll stop it myself,” he snarls.

YOU CANNOT STOP IT. YOUR EXISTENCE DEMANDS IT. IT IS DONE BECAUSE OF YOU.

“I never asked for any of this!” Yuri shouts. “I never asked for _ you _ to come here and, and mess everything up! Now just stop it, and leave!”

A car comes screeching into the air base. Yuuri and a dark-haired man Yuri doesn’t know fall out. “Yurio!” Yuuri shouts. “Get away from them!” Yuri holds up a hand, and Yuuri stops in his tracks like he’s been frozen. He probably _ has _ been frozen; Yuri’s still getting the hang of the new powers. Whatever the reason, Yuuri’s out of the way, which is good.

At Death’s right hand is a woman with long, dark hair; at a gesture from Death, she steps forward. “Have these little humans been filling your ears with talk of peace?” she asks, her voice a soft purr. She hefts a long, sharp-looking sword with dark stains all up and down the blade that Yuri is sure she wasn’t holding a moment ago. “I can fix that.” Behind him, Yuri can feel Kenjirou shove Otabek, who, shockingly, shoves back.

“Don’t fight each other!” Yuri shouts, looking back at them. “Fight _ them!_” He trains his gaze on Mila, grasping hold of her red string. Mila, about to jump into the fray between their friends, shakes herself out of it and nods at Yuri. With an animal yell, she runs past him and stamps on the woman’s shin.

The woman drops the sword, shrieking in pain. “You little brat!” she cries, lunging for the sword again, but Mila is quicker; she lifts it in both hands and the point goes straight through the woman’s stomach. The woman howls, flame leaping from where the sword has touched her body, and with a great roaring sound, she’s gone.

The man at Death’s left lets out a roar of anger. “My sister!” he screams, rushing forward. Yuri grabs Otabek’s blue string, and Mila tosses the sword to him. Otabek swings like a professional cricketeer and the blade passes cleanly through the man’s neck. His body dissolves before it hits the ground.

There’s one man left, standing to the right of where the woman had been. He stares at where his compatriots have just disappeared, and says in a trembling voice, “Do I have to?”

IT CANNOT KILL YOU, Death says. YOU CANNOT BE KILLED. YOU ARE A CREATION OF HUMANITY. AS LONG AS HUMANITY SURVIVES, YOU WILL SURVIVE.

“But it can still hurt,” the man says. Before he can say anything else, though, another car comes careening into Yuri’s view. _ Another _ dark-haired man Yuri doesn’t know gets out, followed by a blond man with Viktor inside of him. The man with Viktor inside of him opens his mouth; Yuri freezes him too.

With a sigh, Death’s final friend steps forward. “Alright, get it over with.” He shuts his eyes.

Yuri gives Kenjirou’s green string a twitch. Shaking, Kenjirou takes the sword from Otabek and approaches the man. He looks over his shoulder at Yuri. “Do I have to?”

“It’s not killing,” Yuri says. “You heard him, they’re not really alive. It’s just sending him away.”

Kenjirou nods, steeling himself, and then turns and pushes the sword straight through the man’s chest. He melts into a thick puddle of what looks like tar.

“Is it over now?” Yuri asks Death. “Or do I have to do you too?”

THAT SWORD CAN DO NOTHING TO ME, FOR I EXISTED BEFORE IT WAS FORGED. From the building behind Death, two people run out and freeze at the sight of them. APPROACH, Death calls. THESE TWO HAVE UNDONE WHAT WE STARTED. I CANNOT SAY IT IS OVER, BUT THE WORLD WILL NOT END TODAY.

“Right,” Yuri says, a little at a loss. “Then… on your way, I guess.”

Death bows, and with a great ripping sound and what looks like a brief tear through reality, he’s gone. The two figures approach, and as they get closer, Yuri recognizes them. “Hi, Leo. Hey, Guang Hong.”

“Yuri?” Leo asks. “What are you doing here?”

“Viktor and Yuuri were looking for you,” Guang Hong adds. “They’re really worried.”

With a start, Yuri unfreezes Viktor and Yuuri; he’d forgotten. “Had to take care of some stuff. You got it all sorted in there?”

Guang Hong nods. “All the computers are broken, and that seems to have undone whatever it was they were doing.”

“Good work,” Yuri says. At that point, both Yuuri and the man with Viktor inside him make it to him, slamming into him with a hug from either side.

“We were so worried about you,” Yuuri breathes. “Are you okay? Why did you run away?”

“Get off,” Yuri snaps, wriggling free. “And you!” He points at the blond man. “Why do you have Viktor inside you?”

“That’s a good question, actually,” Yuuri says, momentarily distracted. “Why _ is _ Viktor inside of you?”

“He asked nicely,” the man drawls, and then opens his mouth again and speaks with Viktor’s voice. “I got discorporated, I’m afraid, and Chris here kindly agreed to give me a ride.”

“It’s not right,” Yuri says. “Viktor, get out of him.”

There’s a squelching sound, and then Viktor is standing next to the man, wearing Yuri’s secret favorite of all his suits. “I think it’s best you go and wait with Georgi,” Viktor says to Chris. “And — was that Phichit I saw?” he adds, turning around.

“He helped me find Yuri,” Yuuri says, and turns back to Yuri. “You’re in serious trouble, young man. What were you thinking, running off like that?”

Yuri scuffs his foot. “I heard you guys talking,” he mumbles. “You called me the Antichrist.”

Yuuri and Viktor exchange a look. “Darling,” Viktor says, slowly. “I won’t deny we said that, but we didn’t mean it how you took it.”

“Then how _ did _ you mean it?”

“Well, literally,” Yuuri says. “You’re the Antichrist, Yuri. It’s what you are. Your father is Satan himself.”

Yuri looks at him. “Oh. Then that’s what… _ all this _ is?” he asks, gesturing to the millions of strings still coming out of his body. It suddenly occurs to him that of course they can’t see them, but maybe they’ll understand anyway.

“You’ve come into your powers,” Viktor says. “We were hoping it wouldn’t happen, but it all seems to have turned out for the best.”

“That’s not all you said!” Yuri snaps. “You said you _ did what you had to do _taking me in, you said I was like a needle in your head!”

“Yurio. Listen to me.” Viktor crouches down and puts his hands on Yuri’s shoulders. “We did do what we had to do when we took you. But it was the best thing we’ve ever done. We love you so much, Yurio, you have no idea. The past eleven years have been the best of our lives.”

Yuri looks at Yuuri, who nods, eyes wide behind his sunglasses. “And when he said he can feel you,” he says, “he meant that literally too. Viktor is — well, he’s an angel.”

“And Yuuri’s a demon,” Viktor says, standing up again. Yuuri fumbles the sunglasses off, for the first time in Yuri’s memory. Yuri takes a step back, because those are _ snake _ eyes. “We’ve known each other for centuries, and we teamed up to raise you because we thought, well, we might be able to even out the influences on you and keep you from ending the world.”

“Which you have,” Yuuri says.

At this point, the man who came with Yuuri comes jogging up. “Hi,” he says, “name’s Phichit, nice to meet you. It’s just, what you just said, Yuuri, about the Apocalypse being averted?” He shakes his head. “Not quite true. I’ve just gotten word — Minako’s coming, to see why everything’s stopped. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of Viktor’s lot show up too. You may want to brace yourselves.”

——

A flash of lightning strikes the asphalt a few yards away. Two men are suddenly standing where it landed. “Ah,” Viktor says, voice strained. “JJ. Nice to see you again. And Yakov, you’ve come personally! That’s… rare.”

Yakov scowls. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Vitya.”

To Yakov’s left, the ground splits open, and a woman comes climbing out of the fissure, which closes behind her. “Minako!” Yuuri snaps to attention on Yurio’s other side. “I can explain.”

“You’d better, Yuuri,” Minako says, glaring at him. “All the demons of Hell are armed and ready for battle, and the Apocalypse _ stops? _ What the Heaven is going on up here?”

“We’d quite like to know that too,” JJ says, hands folded primly in front of him. “Viktor?”

Viktor and Yuuri look at each other and step forward, putting themselves between the newcomers and Yurio. “Well,” Viktor starts. “If you cast your minds back to the Beginning, the Garden, you know, _ he _ was a wily old serpent, and I was technically on apple tree duty —”

“Viktor.” Viktor looks at Yuuri, who shakes his head. “We adopted the Antichrist,” Yuuri says baldly. “Eleven years ago, I didn’t hand him over to the American diplomat, I kept him. We’ve been raising him.”

“An accurate, if blunt, summation of the situation,” Viktor says. 

Yakov’s face is turning redder by the second. “And why,” he bites out, “did you not _ tell Heaven _when a demon came to you with the baby Antichrist?”

Minako speaks before Viktor can think of a suitable response. “And why did you take the Antichrist at all?” she asks. “Why not just let the Plan play out?”

Viktor looks at Yuuri again. The sight is comforting. “Well, that’s just it,” he says, turning back toward Yakov and JJ. “The Plan. We don’t… well, that is to say, we don’t entirely _ agree _ with it.”

“You don’t agree with it.” JJ’s voice is flat. “You don’t agree with the Divine Plan.”

“Well,” Viktor says. “No. To put it bluntly.”

“We like the world,” Yuuri says. “You all, you’ve been Upstairs and Downstairs, but we’ve been on Earth the whole time, since the Beginning, and we know it better than you do. It doesn’t deserve to be destroyed.”

“Humanity churns out massive amounts of both heavenly and hellish acts a _ second,_” Viktor says, “so I really can’t understand why you all want it destroyed either. The world is perfectly balanced, just the way it is.”

Yakov and Minako exchange a glance. “It’s not about what we _ want, _ ” Minako says. “It’s about the _ Plan. _ There shall be a world, and it shall exist for six thousand years and end in fire and flame. It is written.”

“Well, we think we should just ignore that,” Viktor says.

“It’s not as if the Almighty is going to come down Herself and make it happen,” Yuuri mutters. Viktor flaps a shushing hand at him.

“Perhaps not,” Yakov says ominously. “But someone might tell the other one.”

“The other one?” Yurio asks from behind them. Viktor slaps a hand over his mouth; Yurio licks him.

“Your father, young man,” Minako replies. “And I’m certain someone will.”

As if in answer, the ground suddenly gives an almighty shake beneath their feet. Potya goes flying out of Yurio’s arms, landing at Mila’s feet. She scoops him up. Minako stays upright, but JJ and Yakov go flying. Viktor flails out his hands and gets one on Yurio and one on Yuuri, who has dropped to his knees. “Oh shit,” Yuuri says, and looks up at Viktor. “He’s coming.”

“Who’s coming?” Yurio shouts, as the ground shakes again, and again, and again.

“Your father, boy,” Yakov hollers at them, pushing himself back up. “Satan himself has been informed, and he’s on his way.”

“What do we do?” Viktor looks at Yuuri. “There must be something we can do, what do we _ do?_”

Yuuri shakes his head. “There’s nothing we _ can _ do. This is his _ father, _ Viktor, we’re outclassed here.” He turns to Yurio. “You’re the only one that can stop this.”

“What?” Yurio asks. He looks suddenly afraid. “What can _ I _ do?”

Yuuri reaches out to clasp his shoulder with the hand not grabbing Viktor’s. “Reality will listen to you right now, Yurio, you’re still in command of your full powers.” With a wrench, Yuuri staggers to his feet again and there’s a _ crack _ in the air. His wings pop out. Viktor follows suit, letting them stretch after long centuries of confinement. “Whatever you do, we’re behind you,” Yuuri says, “but you have to do it quickly.” He snaps his fingers and is suddenly holding a tire iron, of all things. Viktor twitches his hand and War’s sword comes flying into it. Much more practical a weapon.

Yurio looks at Viktor, who tries for a reassuring smile. He thinks it comes out more of a grimace, but it seems to do the trick, because Yurio nods and moves out to the bare patch of asphalt between them and Minako, Yakov, and JJ, which is now starting to crack and curve. He doesn’t stumble, though, but strides to the middle and plants his feet. Yuuri and Viktor make their way after him, and he reaches for their free hands. “No one’s coming,” Yurio says. “You all said my father’s coming, but no one is coming. Do you hear?” he adds in a shout. “_No one can be coming, because my dads are already here!_”

The ground gives one last mighty shake and then falls still; the rushing sounds in their ears falls quiet. “Oh, _ Yurio,_” Viktor wails, and drops to his knees, pulling the boy into a hug. Yuuri does the same, draping himself over Yurio’s other side.

It’s a mark of how shaken Yurio is that he allows this; indeed, Viktor sees his hand reach out and tug Yuuri closer, and he nestles into Viktor’s chest. They stay there, holding each other, while JJ, Minako, and Yakov converge in front of them.

“Right,” Minako says, after a few minutes of quiet conversation with JJ and Yakov. Viktor and Yuuri detach themselves from Yurio but keep hold of his hands, and he lets them. “It seems pretty clear that the Apocalypse isn’t happening today,” she goes on, “which means certain plans, and perhaps certain Plans, will need to be revisited.”

“We’ll have to consult with, uh,” JJ says, pointing up. Yakov looks furious, but nods. “I’m sure you’ll hear the results of whatever is decided.” With a flash, JJ and Yakov are gone. Minako scowls at them all and sinks back down into the earth.

Phichit comes running over from where he had taken shelter by the Bentley; after a moment, Chris and Georgi follow. “That was crazy!” Phichit says, throwing himself into Yuuri’s arms. “I’m so glad you’re all okay.”

“Is it over?” Yurio asks, wiping his nose. Mila, Kenjirou, and Otabek run over too, at his beckon. “Can we go home now?”

“Yeah, Yurio,” Yuuri says, clapping a hand onto his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”


	13. Six Years and One Week Before the Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri snaps open yet _another_ trash bag and starts shoveling wrapping paper into it. “We spoil him,” he announces to Viktor, who’s tidying up the pile of children’s shoes by the door. “What were we thinking, getting him so many presents?”
> 
> “We were thinking we wanted to see him happy,” Viktor says. “We don’t _spoil_ him, we _pamper_ him. There’s a difference.”

Yuuri snaps open yet _ another _trash bag and starts shoveling wrapping paper into it. “We spoil him,” he announces to Viktor, who’s tidying up the pile of children’s shoes by the door. “What were we thinking, getting him so many presents?”

“We were thinking we wanted to see him happy,” Viktor says. “We don’t _ spoil _ him, we _ pamper _him. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, is there,” Yuuri mutters, bending down to dig a stray piece of paper out from under the coffee table. “Go and open a bottle of wine, will you, while I finish up?” he says. “I need it, after today.”

Viktor tuts at him but moves off to the kitchen. Yuuri collects the last bits of paper and packaging and ties the trash bag off, miracling it out to the trash cans in the back of the house. He sinks down onto the sofa with a sigh as Viktor comes out with a bottle and two glasses. “I think it went rather well, all things considered,” Viktor says, pouring out the wine.

Yuuri concedes this with a tilt of his glass. “I suppose.” He drinks. “His friends seem nice enough. Good influences. Very _ human._”

Viktor hums. “I was glad to see they’ve accepted Kenjirou into their fold. I was worried they wouldn’t, when he moved here, but it all seems to be going rather smoothly.”

“Kenjirou’s father’s a right piece of —” Yuuri starts; Viktor cuts him off with a shushing sound and a loaded glance towards Yurio’s door. Yuuri subsides with a grumble and drinks more wine.

“Yes, well, that’s the perils of parenthood,” Viktor says. “Dealing with their friends’ parents.” He takes a long swallow of his own wine. “Most of them are nice, though.”

“Ever the optimist,” Yuuri teases. Viktor pours them each another glass and they drink in silence for a few minutes. “He’s a good kid, though, right?” Yuuri says, tipping his head against the sofa back and looking at Viktor. “We’re doing a decent job with him, and all that?”

“I think he’s wonderful,” Viktor says softly. “I think we’re doing an amazing job. He’s wonderfully _ human._”

“Good.” Yuuri takes a sip. “I just worry.” Viktor raises an eyebrow. “That we’re not doing right by him.”

Viktor twists his mouth into a wry smile. “I think all parents worry about that.”

“And that’s what we are,” Yuuri says. “Parents. Right?” He meets Viktor’s eyes. “We count?”

“We count,” Viktor says. “We definitely count.” He raises his glass. “To Yurio?”

Yuuri tips his against Viktor’s. “To Yurio.”


	14. The Day After the Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri rises from the chair in Viktor’s room as the sun comes up, creeping silently out of the room and down the stairs. Chris and Georgi are asleep in his room, and Phichit had taken the guest room; Otabek, Mila, and Kenjirou had all crammed themselves into Yurio’s room for the night as well. He tiptoes past Leo and Guang Hong, curled up together on the pullout sofa. He’s going to need to make a lot of breakfast.
> 
> (In Finchley, a man named Cao Bin wakes up in his bed.)

Yuuri rises from the chair in Viktor’s room as the sun comes up, creeping silently out of the room and down the stairs. Chris and Georgi are asleep in his room, and Phichit had taken the guest room; Otabek, Mila, and Kenjirou had all crammed themselves into Yurio’s room for the night as well. He tiptoes past Leo and Guang Hong, curled up together on the pullout sofa. He’s going to need to make a _ lot _ of breakfast.

(In Finchley, a man named Cao Bin wakes up in his bed.)

First things first, Yuuri sets the coffee going. While it drips, he pulls out an entire carton of eggs and looks inside. It’s only half full, so he pulls another carton out that wasn’t there a moment ago and sets them both on the counter. He sets aside enough for a big batch of pancakes and sets to work scrambling and frying the rest. The pans go into the oven, which he sets to just high enough a temperature to keep them warm, and he starts mixing together the pancake batter.

In the living room, Leo stirs to find Guang Hong’s eyes on him. “Good morning,” he whispers, and shuffles closer for a kiss. “Did we save the world yesterday?”

“I think so,” Guang Hong says. “Best I can tell, anyway.”

It seems rude to make out on someone else’s pullout sofa, so Leo contents himself with a single lingering kiss instead. “What the hell do we do today?” he asks. “No prophecies left. The day is our own.”

Guang Hong shuffles onto his side. “I’m gonna have to look for a place to live. Do you think Tadfield has an apartment complex?”

Leo frowns. “Oh. I mean, if you want, I can help you find something, but…”

“But?”

“But I’d rather hoped you’d stay with me. There’s plenty of room in the cottage for two, after all.”

Guang Hong’s smile is blinding. “I didn’t want to assume, now that the prophecies are done…”

“Stay with me,” Leo says firmly. “We belong together.”

That appears to be cause for another kiss; Leo’s rules about appropriate places to make out go flying out the window. After a bit, Guang Hong pulls back and sniffs the air. “I smell coffee.”

“I would kill for some coffee right now.” They extract themselves from the sheets and go wandering into the kitchen, rubbing their eyes.

“Have a seat,” Yuuri says from the stove, gesturing to the table. It will seat them all this morning, he’s already made sure of it. “Or help yourself to some coffee. Breakfast will be ready shortly.” Guang Hong sits down. Leo pulls together coffee for the both of them (by now he knows how Guang Hong takes it) and joins him.

Viktor is next, coming into the kitchen with a soft smile just for Yuuri. “Good morning,” he says quietly, coming up to him.

“Morning,” Yuuri says, smiling back. “Couldn’t miracle me up some blueberries, could you? They always taste charred when I do it.” Viktor snaps his fingers and hands Yuuri a bulging carton of perfectly fresh blueberries. “Thanks,” Yuuri says. It’s surprisingly difficult not to press a kiss to Viktor’s cheek all of a sudden. “Can you be on toast duty?” Viktor nods and starts feeding bread slices into their toaster.

Phichit comes in next, and accepts a travel mug of coffee. “Got to hit the road,” he says. “Lots to do, what with, well. You know.” He hugs Yuuri and departs, walking into their back garden and vanishing into the ground.

The kids come piling into the kitchen just as Yuuri is pouring out the last of the pancake batter. “Blueberry?” Yurio asks, sniffing the air. “_Wicked._” The four of them take seats at the expanding table just as Chris and Georgi come in.

“Morning, all,” Chris says, directing Georgi to two chairs still open next to each other. “Something smells delicious.”

“Nothing fancy,” Yuuri says, flipping the pancakes. “Just some eggs, toast, and pancakes.”

“His specialties,” Viktor says, buttering the last of the toast. “They taste as delicious as they smell.”

Breakfast is a rowdy affair, and Yuuri for the most part stays out of it, sipping a long-awaited cup of coffee as he leans against the refrigerator and watches. Viktor’s in the thick of things, passing syrup and salt and laughing uproariously, but every now and again he looks over to meet Yuuri’s eyes and smile. Yuuri hides his answering ones in his mug.

Eventually the food runs out and the conversation quiets down, everyone rubbing their stomachs. Yurio makes a valiant play for Leo’s coffee, which is foiled when Leo stretches his arm up higher than Yurio can reach. “Antichrist or not, I’m taller than you,” Leo says. Yurio pouts.

Yuuri is waved out of the kitchen when he sets to the washing up, the kids chivvying him out while Viktor rolls up his sleeves. Chris volunteers Georgi to help with the dish drying; Leo, Chris, and Guang Hong wander out to the living room with Yuuri. Leo and Guang Hong haven’t stopped holding hands since they finished eating, and they keep blushing at each other. It’s sweet.

Suddenly, all the blood rushes from Guang Hong’s face. “Oh no.”

“What is it?” Leo asks.

“I’ve just realized, I’ll have to go back and get my things from Dorking, which means I’ll have to explain all this to Mother…”

“Won’t be a problem,” Yuuri says.

Guang Hong looks at him. “Really?”

Yuuri shrugs. “Easy enough, and it’s the least I can do as a thank-you for helping us save the world yesterday. Your mother will understand completely.”

“Gosh. Thanks!”

Guang Hong and Leo depart not long after that, muttering something about having to buy a bigger bed. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Chris stands up and comes to sit very close to Yuuri on the sofa. “I have something to talk to you about,” he says under his breath, casting an eye through to the kitchen to make sure the washing-up is still underway.

Yuuri shuffles a little farther away. “What’s that, then?”

“I spent a decent amount of time coexisting around Viktor’s head and heart yesterday,” Chris says. “Which makes me uniquely positioned to be the only other person in the world who knows how desperately that angel is in love with you.”

The blood starts to drain from Yuuri’s face and then abruptly changes direction, heating his cheeks and forehead almost instantaneously. “Oh,” Yuuri breathes. “You mean…” Chris nods.

It’s not as if Yuuri didn’t _ know. _ You can’t spend six thousand years with somebody and not _ know _ how they feel about you. But there’s knowing and then there’s _ knowing. _ Yuuri longs for his drained mug of coffee to hide his expression. “And you should know,” Chris goes on, “that he’ll never, ever tell you on his own. It’ll have to be from you.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says. “Well, if he doesn’t want me to know, then —”

“He wants you to know,” Chris says. “Trust me. But he won’t ever be the first one.”

“Right,” Yuuri says, and rubs his hands across his thighs. “Right.” He stands up. “Excuse me.”

“Go get him,” Chris says with a smirk. Yuuri goes into the kitchen.

Viktor is just finishing up his part of the chores; he hands the last egg pan to Georgi to dry and turns as Yuuri walks into the kitchen. “Have Guang Hong and Leo left?” he asks. “I thought I heard the door open.”

“Yes, they’ve gone,” Yuuri says, and walks up to him. Viktor watches him, and lifts an eyebrow when Yuuri stops an inch away from him. Yuuri reaches up to pull off his sunglasses, tucks them into his jacket, and puts his hands on either side of Viktor’s face. Viktor’s eyes widen adorably. “Stop me if I’ve got this wrong,” Yuuri whispers.

“You haven’t,” Viktor says back, equally low-voiced, and comes when Yuuri pulls him in.

Viktor’s hands are still wet; Yuuri can feel it when one slides into his hair, and he knows the other will leave a mark on the leather of his jacket where Viktor clenches it in a fist. Viktor’s mouth opens when Yuuri licks at it and he pulls Yuuri impossibly closer; Yuuri slings an arm around his neck and angles him down for better access.

They’re broken apart by a loud gagging sound; when Yuuri turns, Yurio is pretending to retch into the trash can. _“Gross,_” Yurio proclaims, and mock-retches again. “Come on, guys, let’s go out back, away from these two _disgusting_ _losers_.” He leads his gang out into the garden in high dudgeon.

Yuuri turns back to Viktor, and catches sight of Georgi over his shoulder, who is staring at them in open-mouthed wonder. “For heaven’s sake, Georgi, it’s like you’ve never seen two men kiss before,” Chris says from the doorway. “We’ll be off,” he adds, coming into the kitchen and taking Georgi’s hand. “Thank you for your hospitality. We’ll keep in touch.”

“Yes,” Viktor says, arms still wrapped around Yuuri. “I really do want your grandmother’s recipe for almond-studded scones.”

“And you’ll get it, I’m a man of my word.” Chris tugs on Georgi’s hand and leads him out of the kitchen. They hear the door open and then shut a few seconds later. Yuuri turns his head to find Viktor’s mouth already on his, and he sinks back into their kissing with a relieved whine.

Throughout the six thousand years of their acquaintance, the two of them have fallen into certain roles. Viktor is the flighty one, flitting from fruit pie to diamond-crusted bracelets to pretty butterflies and back, and Yuuri is the one who keeps them walking down the road to their destination. Now, with the few brain cells Yuuri can devote to anything other than the feel of Viktor’s mouth on his, he marvels at the role reversal. Yuuri feels like he’s about to fly apart. He can’t decide where to put his hands, on Viktor’s shoulders or the roundness of his hips or buried in his hair or any combination of wonderful, unexplored parts of his physique, and through it all Viktor is a rock, solid and strong. He comes when Yuuri tugs him closer, moves when Yuuri directs him, but his arms wrap warm and tight around Yuuri’s body and hold him together. 

It takes a long time, to kiss through the first flush of six thousand years’ pining being resolved, but eventually they can pull away from each other enough to move to the back door and look out. Yuuri can see the four children playing in the garden, Mila waving a large stick like a sword. “No, _ I _ want to be War!” he hears Kenjirou shout. “_You _ be Pollution.” Yurio has pulled a tarp over himself like a set of dark otherworldly robes.

Yuuri laughs, and Viktor’s arms wrap around him from behind. “We did it,” Viktor whispers into his ear, and drops his mouth to press a kiss to the side of Yuuri’s neck. “We did it.”

“We did.” Yuuri slides his hands along Viktor’s arms and settles back into his embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *flops down* IT'S DONE!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Thank you all for reading! If you've gotten this far and haven't already, please consider leaving a comment? This was a really big project for me and I'd love to hear from you <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://thewalrus-said.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thewalrus_said)!


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